A Leopard's Spots
by McLance
Summary: After learning about a relative that she didn't know existed, Harlie is eager to learn more about her family.
1. Chapter 1

I've always heard people say it's good we can't see into the future, because it would probably be too much to

handle. Either too weird, too frightening, too exciting, too something or other.

I'd definitely been less than enthusiastic about going back to school after Christmas break, and even

though we were nearly thru the month of February, I still hadn't recovered my good feeling about school.

After talking and listening to Crane, actually more listening than talking on my part, about the college

English class, he'd convinced me to stick with my plan to take it. And, all in all, so far I was enjoying it.

I really liked the teacher, and we got to do a lot of creative writing, which I really enjoyed.

Today was unusually warm for late February, even for California. I was on my way into town to pick

up feed. It had become one of my Saturday morning chores the last few weeks. Mostly, I guess, because

my brothers sensed I was at loose ends, with no Saturday job with Doc G to go to. I'd moped around the house

until finally one Saturday Brian handed me a list of feed, and said, "Hit the road, peach."

I still missed Doc G so much that I ached from it at times. I missed working along side of him

on Saturday mornings. I missed sitting and talking across the table from him at Marie's café. I missed

hearing his laugh, and the way he called me lass. Actually, I couldn't think of anything about him that

I didn't miss.

I would, I thought as I drove along, even be glad to take a lecture, or a scolding from him. I shook my head,

and said, really quietly, "What do you think about that, Doc G? I'm so lonesome for you that I wouldn't even

mind having you holler at me. Crazy, huh?"

Clarence, who was my riding companion on this trip, thumped his tail in response, without raising his

head. I reached over and rubbed his ear fondly. Clarence had made what I thought was a pretty good

adjustment to living at our house. Everybody seemed to like him, and he had a way of working himself

inside the house more than Hannah really liked, though she didn't say much about it. A lady from church had

taken Brutus, and every Sunday, much to my family's amazement, Mrs. Baird was full of stories of

Brutus's latest cute antics.

At first, when Mrs. Baird had come over to the house, her intent was to look at Pearl, with the

probability of taking her. It was while she was sitting on the porch, visiting with Hannah and Adam,

that she's seen Brutus. When he brought an old tennis ball, and dropped it hopefully beside her

chair, she chuckled, like it was the smartest thing a dog had ever done.

By the end of the hour visit, she announced that she was taking Brutus instead of Pearl. I'm sorry

to say that some of my brothers, and Hannah, too, looked dismayed at this, and tried to discourage

the match. First, Adam shared that Brutus wasn't the best dog to have around stock, saying that

Brutus wasn't above chasing horses and cattle.

"I've neither cows nor horses any longer. I'm sure he'll do fine with my chickens," was her response.

Next Brian suggested that Brutus was a bit hyper for someone of an older age to handle. Well, those

weren't his exact words. He wasn't that blunt. But everybody knew what he meant. Including Mrs. Baird.

"I'm not in my dotage yet, Brian McFadden," she said, raising an eyebrow at him like he was ten years old.

"No, ma'm," Brian said, and then gave her a smile so full of charm that she smiled back.

Before Ford went back to college in January, he'd come to me, asking what I thought about Captain

Jack going with him back to the dorms. He would, Ford said, get lots of attention. I'd known that Ford

enjoyed interacting with Captain Jack, but I was still surprised by his wanting to take full

responsibility for the contrary bird.

"Are you sure, Ford?" I'd asked him.

"Well, yeah. I'd at least like to try it. I think the other guys will get a kick out of him."

I'd been relieved, in a way, because Captain Jack's squawking and hollering got on everybody's

nerves, and sometimes it seemed to frighten Isaac.

So I'd agreed, thanking Ford gratefully.

"Maybe sometimes you can bring him when you come home for a weekend?" I'd suggested, and

Ford had said that he would. I'd called Ford at the dorms a few times, checking on Captain Jack, and

Ford always assured me that everything was going well.

"He's learned a couple of new words," Ford told me on one phone conversation, a chuckle in his voice.

"Oh, yeah?" I said. I could imagine what kind of words that Captain Jack might be subjected to in a

dorm filled with college guys.

When Ford told me the words, I whistled, and then laughed a little.

"You're supposed to be a good influence on him, Fordie," I told him jokingly.

"I am, I am," he said in protest. "It's the other guys teaching him."

I drove the truck extra slowly that particular Saturday morning. Once I got accustomed to the

smell of peppermints assaulting my senses when I was enclosed in the truck cab, I found I really enjoyed

driving it, although I still thought of it as Doc G's truck in my mind. Guthrie, riding with me earlier in the

week, had commented that the smell of the peppermints seemed to be fading away. I'd agreed,

and for some reason, that made me sort of sad.

Paying the insurance for the last two months, and truck tags, plus gasoline, had taken alot of my savings.

I'd tried to pay Daniel for the money he'd put into the El Camino, but he'd brushed me off.

"If you decide to sell it, you can pay me after that," he'd said.

I'd put some thought into putting an ad in the local newspaper, listing it for sale, but something held

me back. I knew eventually I would have to decide, but for right now, it sat beside the barn, not being moved,

although Evan started it up every now and then, which he said was important to do,

and I'd driven it down the road in front of the house a few times.

Halfway to town, I saw a familiar truck approaching from the opposite direction. I knew it was Kenny

even before he started waving his hand out of the window. I checked in my rearview mirror, and then

came to a stop in the road. Kenny pulled up alongside of me, and I rolled my window down.

"Hey," he said, with a grin.

"Hi."

"What are you doin' today?" he asked.

"Going to get feed."

"Aw, I was heading over to your house. Guthrie and I are goin' hunting. I was hoping you'd go

for a ride with me later, maybe go to the Dari Kurl."

I'd dated Kenny a couple of times over the last month. A movie, and then, another time, he and I had

double-dated with Guthrie and Kristin. I liked Kenny. He was fun, and nice, too. I didn't think I'd ever

feel wildly crazy about him. There just wasn't that sort of feeling on my part. But he was nice to go out with

sometimes. And, admittedly, one big point in his favor was that the family liked him. If I said I was

going out with Kenny, I might get a couple of comments, mostly from Brian or Evan, about where

we were going, and what time to be home, and all of that. But they liked Kenny, evident in the way

he was greeted when he came around. So it wasn't the sort of intense grilling they would do to a

boy that they didn't know, or one that they didn't like.

At this time, I shaded my eyes from the sun, and answered Kenny. "Well, maybe I can."

"Great," he said with enthusiasm. "If we can get waited on there, that is. I was there earlier

to get a Coke, and Mike was doing the car hopping himself."

"Where's Betsy Vail?" I asked. Betsy has worked at the Dari Kurl for almost forever.

"I guess she walked out on him. He was supposed to have somebody else coming in to cover her shift.

Some cousin of his, or something," Kenny told me.

After we said goodbye, I drove on to town, my mind working on an idea. I went to the feed store,

and got a bottle of pop from the machine while a couple of guys that work there loaded the feed.

I couldn't help letting my eyes stray over towards the vet office. I stepped out onto the sidewalk,

looking directly across at it. It looked so sad and deserted. Even from the outside, it looked lonely to me.

I sighed. That was just loony. How could a building look lonely? I seriously needed to get a grip.

"Harlie!" somebody yelled at me.

I turned to look at Luke Bunch, who was waving at me. "You're good to go," he told me. "All loaded

up."

"Okay. Thanks," I said.

"See ya next week," he said.

After I'd backed out into the street, I drove to the Dari Kurl. When I got there I parked, and

watched for a few minutes. Mike, the owner, was still taking orders from other cars. Mike seems to be an alright

sort of guy, although I don't really know him all that well. I've heard him holler at Betsy Vail, but

she just hollered right back. Usually everybody parked within hearing distance just laughs. Kind of like

it's free entertainment, while you eat your hamburger and fries. I saw somebody else taking orders,

a lady who I didn't recognize. The cousin, I thought.

I approached Mike, following him inside the small area. There's only enough seating inside for

about six people. That's why most people just stay in their cars or trucks to order and eat.

Mike disappeared into the kitchen. I waited until he was visable again, over the counter.

"Gonna have to wait," he said gruffly. "I've got orders ahead of you to catch up on."

"I don't want to order anything," I told him.

"Well, what do you want?" he demanded.

"I heard you might need some help today."

Mike slammed down the platter he was holding so hard that I was startled. And surprised, too, that it

didn't shatter.

"You heard that, did you?" he barked.

I decided not to let him scare me. "Well, do you?" I asked him.

"It's obvious I do, isn't it? Darn dingy female, walking out on me like she did." He slammed down

a pan, obviously wishing it was Betsy Vail's face. "You offering?"

"Maybe. What do you pay?" I asked.

"Four-fifty an hour. You keep tips. Can you start now?"

I hesitated. "Right now?" I asked. "I don't know about right now. Could I come back in around

an hour or so?" That would, I thought, give me a chance to take the feed home, and tell my

brothers and Hannah what I was going to do.

"I could use you right now. Why an hour?"

"Well, I need to talk to my family first-" I started to explain.

"No deal, then," he said, and started throwing hamburgers on the grill.

"Why not?" I asked, startled by his quick change of mind.

"You're the one who asked for a job. I need you now. Lunch crowd's gonna be swarming in

soon. I don't need a kid who has to check everything with her mama and daddy."

I realized then that, if he thought I had a mom and dad, he had no clue at all who I was.

Good grief, in a town the size of Murphys, and with all the times I'd been at the Dari Kurl,

you would think he would have recognized me. But, I

remembered that he'd only lived here around a year. And he was never out mixing with the

teenagers who frequented the place. He stayed inside, doing the cooking mostly.

I decided not to explain that I didn't have parents. Instead, I said, "It's my brothers I need to talk to."

Mike blinked at me. "Okay. Your brothers, then. I need a gal who can make up her own

mind when to work."

"I can make up my own mind," I told him. "I've got my dog out in the truck, though. I can't leave

him out there while I'm working."

"He can lay over there in the corner," Mike said, with a gesture past the one and only table. "He's not

aggressive, is he?"

"No."

"Okay, then. Grab an order pad, there, and get to work."

"Can I use your phone first?" I asked, pointing to the phone under the counter.

Mike sighed, and rolled his eyes and picked the phone up, setting it on the counter.

"No long distance calls," he warned, keeping his hand on the phone.

"It's a local call."

"Make it quick," he said, moving his hand and starting to flip the burgers.

What a jerk, I thought. But a job was a job.

I dialed home, hoping it would be Hannah that answered the phone. She'd be easier to

convince.

As it was ringing, I suddenly thought to ask Mike, "When is the shift over?"

"You can leave at two-thirty."

Ringing. Ringing. While I was still thinking of what to say, Clare said,

"Hello?"

Clare. Thank goodness.

"Hi, Clare."

"Hi, tootsie. Where are you?"

"Still in town."

"Well, the fellows are making noises wondering where you are."

"Good grief, I'm only a few minutes late," I muttered.

"Well, you know how they are," she said. It sounded as though she was smiling.

"Will you tell them something for me?"

"What?"

"I'll be home this afternoon. A little before three."

There was a momentary silence, and then Clare asked, sounding doubtful, "Why? What are

you doing?"

I would have brushed Clare off, but I remembered how mad Brian got at me awhile back when

he thought I was taking advantage of Clare, treating her like she's a pushover.

"I got a chance to earn some money."

"At Marie's?" she asked.

Before I could answer, the older lady came in from outside, and starting thrusting orders

at Mike. They began arguing about something, and I stuck my finger in my other ear, the one not

pressed to the phone, so that I could still hear Clare.

"Wait a minute," Clare said. I heard her talking to someone, and then she said, "Here's Crane."

"No-" I began. Too little, too late.

"What's up?" Crane asked.

"I'll be a little later getting home. Okay?"

"What's a little later?"

"Before three."

"You've got tutoring at two o'clock."

Oh, I'd forgotten that! "Bat shit," I muttered.

"What?" he asked.

"Can I skip it today?" I asked, hopeful, but not very confident that he would agree.

"No, you can't."

"Okay. I'll be home for tutoring." I would, I thought, just tell Mike I had to leave by 1:30.

"Hold on a minute," Crane said. "What are you doing that you want to stay in town for?"

"I just want to make some money, Crane." I decided to appeal to his sense of responsibility.

"Where? The café?"

I knew better than to fib. "No. The Dari Kurl."

Before he could ask a bunch of questions, I said, "I'll explain when I get home. Is it alright?"

"I guess so," he said, but he didn't sound particularly convinced or happy.

"Okay. I'll see you later," I said, in a hurry to get off the phone.

"Be home before two, you hear me?" he was saying.

"Yes. Okay."

7

What followed had to be the longest three hours of my life. I like to think that I'm not

lazy. That I'm used to hard work. But either it was because it was a different type of work, or I was

way out of shape, or something, because I was exhausted only an hour into it.

You wouldn't think it would be that hard just walking in and out, taking orders from people, and

then taking their food out to them, but it was. I was even beginning to think fondly of the Ivy's sheep.

I saw a lot of kids from school, and it was while I was talking to Chelsie and Lori that Mike

stuck his head out of the door to yell at me and tell me to get back to work. When the lunch

crowd had thinned out, though, and I checked the time, I told Mike that I needed to go, and

he was nice enough. Thirteen fifty didn't seem like much for all the work I'd done, but I'd made another

ten in tips.

"We'll make a car hop out of you yet," Mike told me, handing me the money. "Come in

tomorrow around one."

"I don't know about tomorrow," I told him. "I just helped out today, but I don't think-"

"I could use the help tomorrow too," he said, giving me an intent look that I found

a little discomforting.

"Well, okay," I said. "One to what?"

"Eight."

Seven hours! I didn't think I could do that. Good grief, somebody would have to scrape me

up off the ground of the parking lot at the end of seven hours. I was mentally calculating in my

head what he would pay me, and then estimating how much in tips I might make.

And eight? It would already be dark by then, and, old-fashioned as it sounds, Adam and Brian and

Crane don't like me driving after dark a whole lot. Not to mention, tomorrow night was a school

night. That would be the first argument they had against this idea.

"I don't think I can stay until eight," I told him. "Maybe until five, or six."

Instead of answering me, Mike waved a hand in my general direction, like he was shooing a fly

away.

By the time I drove into the driveway at home, it was, according to the radio, five minutes until

two, and Mrs. Steven's car was already there.

Both Crane and Adam were on the porch. Crane was leaning against a porch pillar, and Adam

was half-sitting on the railing. I knew they were waiting for me.

"Both of them," I muttered to Clarence. "Double the lecture."

7


	2. A mystery begins

I lifted Clarence and set him on the ground carefully. I laid his blanket on the ground beside

him, and he looked up at me as if to say, 'thanks', picked it up between his teeth, and ambled away

on his short, stubby legs, dragging it behind him.

I looked up towards the porch, remembering all that feed in the back of the truck.

"Want me to back up to the barn?" I called out to Adam and Crane.

Adam waved what looked like an impatient hand at me. "Just leave the keys," he called back.

I laid my keys back in the seat, and went up the front porch steps, pausing beside them.

"Three minutes until two," I announced, trying out a smile. "I told you I'd make it by two."

I thought I saw a glimmer of amusement in Adam's eyes, but if there was, he masked it quickly,

shaking his head with one of those 'what are we going to do with her?' type of looks.

Crane, on the other hand, showed not even the faintest glimmer of amusement.

He looked serious and, I thought, a little bit irritated. "By the skin of your teeth," he said.

"It still counts though, right?" I said, still trying that same smile on him.

"Mrs. Stevens is waiting for you," Crane said. "We'll talk after you're done."

"Yippy skippy," I said, jokingly.

Crane's forehead wrinkled in frown lines. He was definitely irritated now. Before he could

say anything, though, Adam said, "Harlie. Get going."

I went inside, saying hello to Mrs. Stevens, who was sitting on the couch, talking to

Hannah, and excusing myself to go to the kitchen to wash my hands, and splash water on my face.

I smelled like French fries, even to myself. I remembered that I hadn't taken time to eat

anything other than a rushed hamburger in between delivering orders. I was hungry, and

feeling a little bit 'off', which I've learned with my diabetes, is not a good thing. I drank a quick

glass of water, and then grabbed a banana, peeling it as I walked back to the living room.

Hannah went back to whatever she'd been doing before Mrs. Stevens arrived.

"You've had a busy day, it sounds like," Mrs. Stevens said.

I nodded, finished chewing my bite of banana, and said, "Yes, ma'm."

As we waded into the world of algebra, I had to struggle to concentrate. At that moment,

all I could think of was how nice it would be take a nap.

"How are your grades holding up?" she asked, as we were finishing up.

"I've got a C+ right now in algebra," I told her, feeling proud. "If I keep it up, I'm hoping

to have a B- by the time report cards come out."

"That's fine, Harlie. You've come a long way since we began working together."

I smiled at her, thinking what a nice lady that she really was.

After she said goodbye and got in her little blue car to drive away, I let the screen door

shut, and went to the kitchen to make myself a sandwich. Hannah was peeling potatoes, and

she watched as I got out the bread, ham, tomatoes and mayonnaise.

"How was tutoring?"

"Good."

"Did you eat lunch?" she asked quietly.

"A hamburger. I'm just really hungry for some reason."

"Well, I'm always happy to see you eating." She laid down the paring knife, and gestured to

the chair beside her at the table.

"Sit down here and talk to me."

I took my sandwich and laid it on a napkin on the table, going to pour myself a glass of milk.

I asked about Isaac and we started talking about him. I was halfway thru eating my sandwich when

Crane and Adam and Brian all came in together. From their conversation, I garnered that a calf had

been stillborn.

"How's the cow?" Hannah asked.

"We gave her a shot," Brian said.

"She should be alright," Adam told her, going to pour himself a cup of coffee.

Brian sank down in a kitchen chair, sighing wearily. "Pour me a cup, too, will you, brother?" he asked Adam.

"Which cow?" I asked them. "Penelope?"

Penelope is one of our best cows. She's really friendly to people, and has the cutest babies, and

generally has no trouble calving or nursing.

"No," Adam said. "The black one with the patch of white on her face. Number 52."

That's how my brothers describe our cattle. By looks or by ear tag number. Except for Penelope. They all

call her by name.

"Oh," I said. "You mean Charlotte."

Adam and Brian both shook their heads at me. "Crazy kid," Brian told me.

"Everybody deserves a name," I reminded him. "Even a cow."

He ran a hand over my head, causing my curls to come out of my braid even more than they

were already.

By this time, Crane and Adam had found chairs at the table too, and Hannah went back to peeling

the potatoes.

"So what's up with working at the Dari Kurl today?" Adam asked me.

I explained how I'd heard from Kenny about Betsy Vail walking out on her shift, and how I'd went

to talk to Mike.

"Did he pay you?" Brian asked, and I knew they thought I'd been taken advantage of.

"Yes. And I made ten dollars in tips, too." I was kind of proud of that, actually.

"Hmm," Adam said.

I looked around at all of their dubious-looking faces. "What?" I asked.

"What made you think about doing that?" Crane asked.

I thought that was a pretty silly question. I mean, really? But I knew it wouldn't be wise

if I suggested that I thought it was silly. Likewise, if I was to answer sarcastically, "Um, because I

need money?" That would not be wise, either.

So I didn't say it like that.

"My savings from my job with Doc G isn't going to last much longer," I pointed out. "I just thought I

could make a little bit of money today."

Crane's expression didn't change. But I thought Adam and Brian looked a little bit proud.

Since they weren't lecturing, or getting onto me, I opened up a little more.

"It was harder than it looks like," I told them. I shrugged. "But any job is better than no job, right?"

"Well," Adam said slowly, "Sometimes."

I wrinkled my forehead at him questioningly. "What do you mean?"

"Remember what I tell you about jumping in without thinking?" he asked.

"Yes. I remember. But this just happened so quickly-" I let my voice trail off, looking at them.

They all just looked at me, too.

"Does he want you work again?" Crane asked.

"Yes. Tomorrow."

"Hmm," Adam said, again.

"Well, what's wrong with wanting to earn money?" I asked, a little defensively.

"There's nothin' wrong with that," Brian said. I gave him a grateful look. At least Brian

was in my corner.

"We're just worried about you, sugar," Adam said.

"It's not like you have to have a job right now," Crane added.

I started to say something about truck insurance, and all of that, to be preempted by

Crane. "Wait until the summer to get a job," he said. "When there's not all the pressure of

school."

"Well-" I began.

"If there's something you need money for, we'll help you," Adam said.

"Okay," I sighed, giving in. "But what about tomorrow? Can I do that? I told him that

I would."

They all exchanged looks.

"How long?" Adam asked.

"One until eight, he said."

"No. It's a school night," Adam said.

"I knew you'd say that. I told him until five or six," I said, with a sigh.

"Five is plenty," Adam said, with finality.

"Okay."

Adam got up, and went to refill his coffee cup. He stopped behind my chair and leaned down.

"I am proud of you, sugar. You're a go-getter." He kissed the top of my head.

7

I was glad to see four-thirty roll around the next afternoon. I was ready to go home and

soak in a hot bath. My feet were hurting. Earlier, when I'd told Mike that I needed to leave

at five, he'd acted as if I'd asked him to sever one of his fingers or something.

"Now when a person takes a job, they need to do the job," he said, waving his greasy spatula at

me.

"I've done the job," I said in defense. "I only agreed to last night and today. And I told you

last night that I needed to leave today by five."

He blinked at me, looking surprised. "You're a feisty little thing, aren't you?" he said.

I surveyed him seriously, not saying anything.

"Well, get on back out there," he said, pointing towards the cars parked in a semi-circle

around the front of the building. "I still have you for 30 more minutes."

When I went back outside, Myrna, the other car hop who was related to Mike, pointed

at a car parked at the far end of the parking lot.

"You want to hike down there?" she asked me. "You're a lot younger than me, and my

feet are killing me."

"Sure," I said, suppressing a sigh.

When I walked up to the white car, I pulled my order pad out of my jacket pocket.

The window rolled down. A woman was in the driver's seat. She was wearing sunglasses.

"What can I get for you?" I asked her.

"I'm from out of town, so I've never stopped here before. What do you suggest?"

"The chicken tenders are good," I said. "They come with fries."

"Alright. I'll have those."

"Anything to drink?" I asked, as I wrote down her order.

"A cup of water is fine."

"Okay." I scribbled that down.

"You're Harlie," she said, sort of softly. The way she said it. It wasn't a question. It was a statement of fact.

She already knew that was my name.

I looked at her in surprise. I didn't know this lady. And she'd said she was from out of

town. So how did she know me?

Before I could ask her any questions, she took off her sunglasses. She was an attractive

woman. I couldn't really judge her age.

"You look just like your mother did when she was sixteen," she said.

I don't know why, but I felt a shiver run down my back.

"You knew my mom when she was my age?" I asked her, intrigued.

"Yes. I knew her. Very, very well."

7


	3. A mystery expanded

Since my mom hadn't been born and raised around Murphys, I was puzzled. I looked at the woman

more closely. There was something about her. Something around her eyes. It wasn't that she was

familiar to me or anything. I knew I'd never seen her before, but there was something that I couldn't

quite put my finger on.

A sudden thought occurred to me. My mom had gone to college for a year before she married

my dad at eighteen. This lady looked a lot older than what my mom's age would be if she'd lived, but maybe she'd been a teacher or something.

"Did you meet her at college?" I asked.

"Oh, no," the lady said, looking a little sad. "I knew her well before that. I knew your mother all

her life."

"I thought you said you'd never been to Murphys before." Now I really was puzzled.

"I said I'd never been here," she said, gesturing to the Dari Kurl building. "But Murphys? Yes, I've been

here, I'm sorry to say."

She sounded a little bitter. And saying it like that? 'I'm sorry to say'? What did she have against

Murphys?

"How did you know my mom?" I asked.

The lady smiled, just a little. But it was a sad smile. "That's a question that I want very much

to answer, Harlie. But it will take more than a few minutes. Could we sit and talk for awhile?"

This entire thing was strange. She was being so mysterious.

"I'm done with work in a few minutes," I said, "but I'm supposed to be heading home-"

"Oh, yes," she said. Again there was what sounded like a bitter tone to her voice. "To your brothers."

I wrinkled my forehead at her. She knew about my brothers, too? Before I could say anything she spoke again, "A few minutes of conversation should be alright, surely?"

I knew that I was going to stay to talk to her. There was no way that I wasn't going to stay, even if it meant

being late getting home.

But all I said right then was, "I'll get your order for you."

I walked back to the building, ignoring the honking and yelling of all the kids parked

around the Dari Kurl parking lot. I turned the order in to Mike. Then I went in the tiny back room,

where there's a little sink, and hooks to hang jackets on. I took a paper towel, and ran water on it,

dabbing at my face. I felt flushed, and my heart was racing in excitement.

Who was this woman? How was she connected with my mom? And with me, enough to know

my name? I went back out, and took a couple more orders. I kept looking toward the white car,

halfway expecting her to have disappeared, be gone before I could find out what was going on.

But she stayed, parked in the same spot. I went to pick up her order, and told Mike that I

would be leaving as soon as I brought back the money for it.

He peered at the clock on the wall. "Still have twenty minutes," he said.

"Oh, for gosh sakes," I said. "I don't care! No wonder Betsy walked out on you. You're

impossible."

He was staring at me, as I grabbed the order and walked back to the white car.

"Here's your order," I said, a little breathlessly.

She took the sack, and handed me a twenty. "I'll get your change," I told her, and

hiked back to the building.

I handed Mike the twenty, and grumbling, he made change. When he went back to his cooking,

I reminded him he owed me for my four hours of work.

Mumbling again, something about ungrateful kids, he punched at the cash register again, and

handed me my eighteen dollars.

When I said goodbye, he didn't say it back. I didn't particularly care, though.

I slung my jacket over my arm, and made my way back to the driver's side of the car.

I stood there, and we looked at each other for a long moment, until she said,

"I'm Karissa."

I nodded, handing her the change, and when we were still looking at one another after another long moment, she said,

"Why don't you sit in here with me? It will be easier to talk that way."

"Okay." I went around to the passenger side, and opened the door, settling myself into

the seat. Even at that moment, when I was nervous, and curious and excited all at the same time,

I noticed the opulence of the interior of the car. The seats were leather, and the dash boasted

all sorts of fancy gadgets.

I noticed that the sack of food that I'd brought her was still sitting unopened in the seat. She was,

however, holding her cup of water. She turned in the seat to face me.

"I can't get over how much you resemble your mother," she said, studying me so intently

that I felt a little uncomfortable. "You could be her mirror image at sixteen."

Then, in an abrupt change of subject, she said, "How long have you worked here?"

"Since yesterday."

"I see."

I'd had enough of her dancing around the issue, dangling what she had to tell me like a carrot in

front of a horse.

"Please tell me about how you knew my mom."

Karissa took a deep breath. "Alright. This isn't easy for me, Harlie. I'd like you to keep in mind

that I personally felt that you should have known."

My stomach clenched in nerves. "Known what?"

"About your mother's family. What have you been told?"

"Umm, her parents died when my brother Adam was a baby."

"That's true. What else do you know?"

"No sisters or brothers. She was an only child."

"She didn't have brothers, that's true. But she did have a sister. Me."

I stared at her, open-mouthed. My mind began to jump around, latching onto possibilities.

Maybe my grandpa had been married before he married my grandma. Or something.

Before I could ask, she guessed my intent. "Not a stepsister. Not a half-sister. We were

sisters, with the same parents. We grew up in the same house. I was a lot older, yes, but we

were sisters."

I was so stunned and surprised that I didn't say anything.

After a few moments of silence, Karissa said, "It's a lot to take in, isn't it?"

"Yeah." I couldn't wrap my mind around it. I'd grown up with my brothers, and that

was it. No grandparents. No aunts or uncles. No cousins. Just the eight of us. Until Hannah

had come along. I'd asked when I was little why we didn't have grandparents like other

kids, and Adam and Brian had told us that both sets of grandparents had passed away.

When there was grandparents day at school, Marie had always gone for Ford and Guthrie

and I.

"I wanted you to know. You and Guthrie. But Adam-" her voice hardened, "Adam and Brian,

they didn't feel that I was a fit influence, a proper aunt for you kids."

"You tried to see us? Guthrie and me?"

"Yes. And Ford, too. But they said that I couldn't-"

"Why? Why would they say that?"

"Something about not wanting you kids mixed up, or some nonsense like that."

I was still staring at her, puzzling this over in my head. It didn't make sense. Why would

Brian and Adam have kept an aunt from us kids? An aunt that wanted to be a part of our

lives?

"They were very insistent about it. They told me to stay away from you, and to let

you grow up without any interference," she went on.

"That doesn't sound right," I said, slowly. "I mean, it doesn't sound like Adam at all. Having

you around would have helped them. It would have made their lives easier."

"Well," Karissa hesitated, "I'm certainly not going to say that I wasn't at fault with

some things. But I've always felt that they shouldn't have lied to you-"

"I don't think they lied about you. Exactly," I said, trying to remember just what

Brian and Adam had said about aunts and uncles.

"They didn't tell you that you had family-that you had an aunt who

would have taken care of you-" she objected.

"I don't remember exactly what they said," I told her, taking offense at her choice of

words. "But they wouldn't have done it without a good reason. I know that for sure."

Karissa took a measured glance at me. "You're very loyal to your brothers," she said,

sounding like she wasn't entirely pleased by that. "Of course that's only natural, growing

up like you have, in this God-forsaken town, with only a houseful of men-"

I'd heard enough insults about my brothers. I sat up straight and looked her

right in the eye. "They did a good job with me! I always had everything I needed!"

"Yes, but you could have had so much more. A woman's touch. You needed that. No little

girl should grow up in a house with all males. Without any sort of tenderness, or the care

you deserved," she said.

"I got the best care any kid could have," I told her. "I thought you were going to talk

about my mom. That's what I wanted to hear about. Not insults about my brothers!" I got out

of the car, and started to walk off, towards my own truck.

"Harlie, wait! Please don't go." she called after me.

She sounded genuinely distressed, and I stopped walking, to turn around. She'd gotten

out of the car, too, and I was surprised by how tall she was. Much taller than my mom had

been, according to what I'd been told.

"I shouldn't have said those things about Brian and Adam. There's just so much

that I want to say to you. I handled it wrong. Please stay and talk to me," she said.

I hesitated. "I'd like to hear about my mom." That was truly an understatement. I

was craving to hear things about her. Aching to hear things. But not, I thought, at

the expense of my brothers being berated.

"Yes. Alright. There's so many things about her that I can tell you," she assured me.

"Okay." But just to make things clear, I added, "But I don't want you to talk

about my brothers like that. They're really great."

"Alright, Harlie," she said.

So I got back into the car with her. And she talked. Being ten years older than my mom,

she told me in great detail about the day that they'd brought mom home from the hospital as a newborn,

and then she told me about the kind of childhood my mom had. Things that she'd liked to

do as a child.

"She was the roller skating champion of our neighborhood," Karissa said. "She really liked all

sports."

"She loved riding horses, too," I added.

"I don't know about that," she said, and that odd bitter tone was back in her voice. "She never

rode horses growing up. That probably happened after she met Adam."

I didn't have to ask to know that Karissa, for some reason, had not liked my father. It was evident in

her tone, and it was evident in her body posture, the way that she stiffened up when she said

his name.

I looked over towards my truck, and saw Myrna, leaning near to the windshield, then, obviously

seeing that I wasn't sitting in the truck, she looked around the parking lot.

I got out of the car, and called out to Myrna, "Are you looking for me?"

"Yes!" she called back. "Phone call for you!"

I knew immediately who was on the phone for me. I wasn't sure how long I'd been sitting there

talking to Karissa. But they would be wondering about me at home.

"I'll be back," I told Karissa, and ran up the small incline to the building.

Mike wasted no time in making a sharp comment as I burst inside.

"This is a business phone," he snapped, from his position behind the counter. "It's not

for personal calls."

"I'll make it fast," I told him.

He just scowled at me.

I picked up the receiver, not sure just what I was going to say. It wasn't as though I was going to

tell the family over the telephone that I was late because I'd met a long-lost relative that they'd never

bothered to tell me about.

"Hello?"

"You were supposed to leave there by five. Where the heck are you?"

"I'm sorry. I got to talking to someone, and I wasn't watching the time-" I began.

"Well, it's nearly six-thirty. We were getting worried."

"Sorry," I said again.

"Well, head on home now," Crane said.

"Okay. You're not mad, are you?"

"We were worried. But no, I'm not mad."

I said goodbye, and hung up the phone. Mike just scowled at me again, not bothering to

say anything.

I went back over to the car where Karissa was still sitting. She rolled down her window.

"I need to get going," I told her, feeling a little uncertain. What did I say now? Nice to meet you?

Thanks for stopping by to tell me that my mom had a sister? Have a nice life?

"Oh. I'd hoped we could talk a bit more." She looked disappointed.

I wanted that, too. After she'd stopped talking about my brothers, I'd enjoyed talking to her,

hearing about my mom, things I'd never known. I was greedy to hear more.

"Yeah. But they were worried about me at home. I was supposed to be home an hour

ago."

"I see," she said. "Could we meet again soon?"

"I think we can. I'll talk to my brothers."

"I was actually thinking that we should keep things between just us two. For right now," she said.

"I don't know," I said. "I think I'd feel kind of weird about that. I try not to lie to them. I mean-"

"I'm not suggesting that you lie," she hastened to interrupt me. "Just hold off a bit. Adam and

Brian won't be pleased that I've done this. Approached you this way."

"I think you're wrong about that. They'll understand. But alright, I'll wait to talk to them,"

I promised, and the sinking feeling in my stomach as I said it, well, that should have been an omen. A

sign of things to come. A sign that I shouldn't lie. A sign that I should go right home and tell

the family about meeting Karissa. It's too bad that I decided to ignore that sinking feeling. It would

have saved me from a lot of trouble.

7


	4. A meeting in the park

Before we parted ways, Karissa wrote a number on a scrap of paper.

"This is the number at the hotel I'm staying at in Modesto. You can call me there anytime."

"You live in Modesto?" I asked, wondering if she'd been that close by all these years.

"No. I'm staying there right now, but that's not my home, no. I've been living in Nevada the last

few years."

I took the paper from her, and put it in my jeans pocket.

"I hope to talk to you soon, Harlie," she said. She looked and sounded sincere.

I nodded. "Bye." I walked quickly to my truck. After I'd gotten in and started the engine, I looked

over and Karissa was still parked, the window still down. She was watching me.

She waved, and I waved back.

As I drove home, my thoughts were racing, jumping all over the place. Why did Adam and Brian tell her to stay away, and leave us kids alone? I thought that they must have had a good reason, but still, it was

puzzling to me. It would have been nice to have had an aunt growing up.

I pulled up in the driveway, and parked next to Guthrie's truck. Clarence and Warrior both

came to greet me and I tried to give them both equal attention.

When I stood up straight again, after petting them, I saw Crane standing on the porch.

I walked over, and paused at the bottom of the porch steps.

"Hi," I said.

"Hey. How was your shift?"

"Long. I need a shower. My hair smells like French fries again."

I walked up the rest of the steps, and Crane leaned over a little to sniff my hair.

"Yeah. Definitely. Just need some ketchup, and you'd be all set," he said jokingly.

I smiled a little and looked up at him. "After my shower, I'm ready for bed. I'm tired."

"You have any homework left to do?" he asked.

"Some English. But I can do it in the morning."

Adam pushed the screen door open, and stood there in the open doorway, in his sock

feet. "You're late," he said. He did not look pleased.

I looked at Crane for support. He shrugged his shoulders as if to say, 'you need to face the music'.

I turned back to Adam. "I got to talking to somebody, and lost track of time. I told Crane-"

"I know what you told Crane. Crane's not your messenger. Where were you?" Adam demanded.

"When I got done with work, I was talking to someone there-" I began to explain.

"You were told to leave at five to come home. That means leave at five. Not continue to hang

around to talk to your friends," Adam said.

"I wasn't talking to my friends," I said, without thinking.

"What?"

"Nothing," I said. I wasn't ready to get into just who I'd been talking to.

"We don't say things just to hear the sound of our own voices, Harlie Marie."

Adam usually only calls me Harlie Marie when he's upset with me, or trying to make a point.

"I know," I said.

"So what does leave at five mean?" he persisted.

"It means leave, and be on the road driving by five minutes after five," I said.

"You don't need to be sassy," he said, looking irritated.

"I wasn't!" I told him, frustrated. "I mean, I wasn't trying to be, Adam. Honestly, I wasn't."

Adam's face softened a little. "Okay." He turned to go back in, then paused. "Have you eaten?"

I shook my head. "Not really. The food there has too much grease in it. Makes my stomach hurt."

"Well, you make sure you go get somethin' right now then," Adam said.

I nodded, and he went back inside, letting the screen door slam.

"Good grief," I muttered.

"Good grief, what?" Crane asked.

"Nothing," I said, knowing there was no use complaining to Crane about Adam getting onto

me.

"So who were you talking to?" he asked.

When I looked at him, he added, "You said it wasn't your friends. Who was it?"

I looked into Crane's face, wishing that I could talk to him about it. But it was too soon. And I'd promised that

I wouldn't. Not yet. I wanted to know more from Karissa. And more about her, too, before I

told my brothers.

"Somebody who wants to be a friend," I said cautiously. At least that wasn't a lie.

"That's a pretty cryptic answer," he said.

I shrugged.

"Is this 'wannabe' friend a boy?" Crane asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No, Crane."

He gave me a half-smile. "Let's go in," he said. "You can make yourself something to eat."

7

I took a shower, and pulled on some sweatpants and a t-shirt, and went downstairs to make

myself a sandwich. Clare came in to talk to me, and before I knew it, she had added a spoonful of

cottage cheese and a pear to my plate.

After that, I went with her to the living room, where everybody was hanging out. I went to root thru

the photo albums, sitting down on one end of the couch to look at them. I felt the need to look at

pictures of my mom. I thought about talking to Guthrie about Karissa, but I decided to wait until

we were alone, maybe driving to school.

The subject didn't come up the next morning, though, because I got up too late, and I

had to finish my English in the truck, while Guthrie drove us to school. On the way home that afternoon,

I reached over and turned the radio down.

"Hey," Guthrie protested. "I was listenin' to that."

"I want to talk to you."

He gave me a look-over, and then reached into his pocket for a piece of gum, unwrapping it and

popping it in his mouth. "Want some?" he asked, holding out the package.

"No. Thanks."

"You look serious. It must be bad, whatever you want to talk about."

"It's not bad," I denied. "Serious, yeah, but not bad."

"Okay. Let's hear it."

"Yesterday, at the Dari Kurl, there was this lady there. I went to take her order, and she

knew my name. She knew all about us-"

"So?" he interrupted me. "Everybody around here knows everybody."

"Guthrie," I said, fixing him with a stern look. "Just listen, okay?"

"Okay, okay."

"This lady isn't from around here. She's from Nevada." I paused for dramatic effect.

"She sure drove a long way to get a hamburger," Guthrie said, with a grin.

"She's mama's sister, Guth," I said, all in a rush, watching his face for a reaction.

Guthrie looked at me, his forehead wrinkled in puzzled lines.

"Huh?"

"Mama's sister. Her name's Karissa."

"Mom didn't have a sister."

"Yes, she did."

"I think she's some loony female who's yanking your chain," he said, with a skeptical shake of his head.

"There's no way that it can't be for real," I said. "She knew too many things, Guth."

"Why wouldn't we have known about her then?" Guthrie pointed out.

"I'm not certain on that yet," I admitted. "Something about Adam and Brian telling her

to not come around us."

"That makes no sense. I mean, if they did say that to her, they must have thought she

was gonna be bad for us."

"Yeah. What could she have done though? That was bad enough for them to tell her that? She

seems nice. Sad. A little bitter, maybe. But nice."

"Nice for a while of talking doesn't make her nice for real," Guthrie pointed out.

"True," I conceded. "But she said she tried to see us when we were little."

"Hmm," Guthrie said. He was quiet for a few moments, and I could tell he was thinking

it over. "What did she say about mom?" he asked then, quietly.

"She told me all kinds of things!" I started telling Guthrie about some of the stories of

our mother's childhood.

"There's a lot more she wants to talk about," I said.

"Well," he said, giving me a long look. "What's that mean?"

"She wants me to call her, so we can meet up again."

"Hmm," he said again. "Well, talk to Adam and Brian about it."

"No! She asked me to wait to tell them."

"She asked you to lie? That's not right, Har."

"Not lie," I denied. "Just wait a little while. She's worried they'll still be against her, I think."

He was quiet for several minutes, and finally I spoke up. "Well? What do you think?"

"I'm not sure. I have to think about it."

"Don't you want to know more about mom?" I asked him.

"Well, yeah. That'd be nice," he agreed.

"She's a piece of mom, Guthrie. She's like the only real piece of mom that I've ever

had."

Guthrie, pulling into our driveway, stopped the truck beside Evan's, and turned off the ignition.

"That's not true," he argued. "We're all a piece of mom."

"I know. But this is different. Can't you try to understand?"

"I understand, I guess. I just don't want you to get hurt."

"Why would I get hurt?" I asked him, not understanding why he would think that.

"I don't know. It just seems like the whole thing has trouble on it."

"Why?" I demanded.

"If they didn't want her around, there must be a reason for it."

I sighed, looking straight ahead stubbornly.

"I just want to talk to her some more, Guth."

7

That night, after supper and homework, and my shower, I curled up in the big chair by

the fireplace, poring over the photo albums again. It seemed like I wasn't seeing any that

I hadn't seen a bunch of times before. What I really wanted was to find some pictures of

my mother as a child, or a teenager.

I went upstairs to get ready for bed, and it was while I was brushing my teeth that Brian

came to stand in the open doorway.

"Hi," I said, around the toothpaste.

"Hi."

I spit into the sink, and then took a drink, rinsing out my mouth.

"You okay?" he asked me.

"Yeah." I wondered why he was asking me that. "Why?"

"You've been pretty quiet the last couple of nights."

"I have?" I looked up at him, and shrugged a little. "That should make you guys happy, right?" I crossed

my eyes at him jokingly.

"Oh, it would, for sure," he joked back. Then more seriously, he added, "Unless something's botherin'

you. Then I wouldn't feel so good about it."

Looking at him then, I felt as though Brian could almost read my thoughts. I knew he couldn't really, of

course, but still, the way he was watching me was a little disconcerting.

Brian, in his own way, is as perceptive as Crane or Daniel.

"I have some things on my mind, I guess," I admitted.

"Anything you want to talk about?" he asked.

I hesitated. "Not right now," I said.

"Okay," he said, not pushing the issue.

As we walked beside each other down the hall towards my room, I asked him, "Remember those pictures

of mama that you gave me for my birthday?"

"Yeah."

"The first one? Where it looks like she's my age? Where did you find that?"

Brian looked thoughtful for a moment. "If I remember right, I think it was in an old hatbox we found left

up in the attic, from when we remodeled."

"Was that the only picture? Or was there others?"

"There were several, I think. Mixed in with some old paperwork."

"Where's it at? The hatbox?"

"I think still up there somewhere. Clare might know."

"Okay," I said, pausing at the door to my bedroom. "Thanks."

Brian reached out to cup my chin in his hand. "Sure you're alright?" he asked.

"I'm sure."

7

When I came out of school the next afternoon, I was nearly to where Guthrie had parked

his truck that morning, when I saw the white car. I was nearly certain that it was Karissa, but

when I stopped walking and shaded my eyes from the sun to look, she stepped out of the car

and waved to me.

I laid my books in the truck seat, and crossed the street to where she stood.

"Hi."

"Hello, Harlie. I hadn't heard from you so I thought I'd take the chance to speak to you

here."

"I've had school and stuff," I said, by way of explanation. I didn't mention that I was still coming

to terms with the fact that we had an honest to goodness relative that we hadn't known about.

"Oh, certainly. I understand you're busy." She took off her sunglasses and smiled at me.

"I was just anxious to talk with you again. Do you have some time now?"

"Maybe for a little while." I looked over towards the school parking lot. Guthrie was leaning

against the truck, talking to someone, I thought it was Lonnie. Guthrie probably thought I hadn't come

out of the school building yet.

"Let me get Guthrie," I told her.

"You've told Guthrie?" she asked, looking a little startled.

"Yes. But he won't say anything."

"I see."

I thought I heard an edge to her voice, but I ignored it, thinking I must be mistaken.

I ran back over to the truck.

"Hey, Harlie," Lonnie said.

"Hi, Lonnie."

They kept on talking about going hunting, and the new crossbow that Lonnie had just gotten.

I grew impatient, and stuck my knuckles in Guthrie's side where it couldn't be seen. I pushed

a little, but he kept on talking.

I pushed a little harder, but all he did was say, "Knock it off," to me.

"Let's go," I hissed.

"In a minute," he said, with maddening calmness.

By the time Lonnie had sauntered away, Guthrie turned to me, looking irritated.

"Since when are you in such a hurry to get home to chores?" he demanded.

"I'm not. It's Karissa. She's here."

"Where?" he asked, looking around.

"Across the street."

Guthrie turned to look. "Is that her car?" he asked, with a low whistle.

"I guess it's hers. I didn't ask. Come on."

"What?" he asked, standing still.

"She wants to talk to us. She wants to see you."

"Did she say that?" he asked, and I wrinkled my forehead at him. And though she hadn't asked

about talking to Guthrie at all, I thought that of course she'd want to. After all, she'd tried to see both of

us when we were younger. She'd said so.

So I fudged the truth a little. "Of course she did. Come on!"

Still Guthrie hesitated. "I don't know, Har," he said.

"For gosh sakes, why not?!"

"It feels weird. And, I guess I'm kind of nervous," he admitted.

"You won't be after you meet her." I took his hand, and tugged him along.

We crossed the street, and when we were beside the car, I dropped Guthrie's hand.

"Hello, Guthrie," Karissa said, her voice sounding a little uncertain.

"Hullo," Guthrie said.

"My goodness, you look like your father."

"Yes, ma'm."

"Ma'm? Well, it's been a long while since I heard that," Karissa said. She reached out and

took Guthrie's hand in hers. "I'm glad to see you, Guthrie. It's been a long time. Since you were around two or three, I

think."

Guthrie nodded.

"Where shall we go so we can talk?" she asked, looking at both of us.

"We could go to the park," I suggested.

"Fine," she said.

When Guthrie didn't say anything, I nudged him. "That's okay, right, Guth?"

"Yeah. Okay," he said, but I heard the hesitation in his voice.

I rode with Guthrie to the park, with Karissa following along behind us in her car.

As soon as we were alone, walking back to the truck, Guthrie started laying down the law to me.

"We're not stayin' for a real long time," he warned me. "Thirty minutes at the most."

"Why?" I asked, looking at him incredulously.

"We've got chores. Remember? And I don't want anybody at home askin' questions about where

we were. Unless you're ready to tell them?" he asked.

"I don't know. Maybe." I climbed into my side of the truck, and looked across the cab at him. "You act

like you don't want to talk to her."

Guthrie shrugged. "It just feels weird."

"Talk to her for awhile. You'll feel different then."

"We'll see," Guthrie said.

When we'd parked, we got out and we all went to sit at one of the picnic tables.

I sat beside Guthrie and Karissa sat across from us.

She asked Guthrie if it had been a surprise to hear about her.

"A shock, yes, ma'm," Guthrie told her.

"Ma'm again? Please, Guthrie, call me Karissa. I'm hoping to hear Aunt Karissa from you both at some point."

I looked at Guthrie to see what he thought about that, but he showed no reaction.

"I'd like to ask you some questions," Guthrie said.

"Yes. Certainly."

"I'm not tryin' to sound rude or anything, but I've been wondering why you were never around

before?" Guthrie asked.

"As I told Harlie, Adam and Brian, too, they both suggested strongly that they didn't want me to visit,

or interfere with you kids-"

"Why?" Guthrie asked, with a directness that I could startled Karissa a little bit.

"Well-it was just one of those things that sometimes happens between people. They didn't particularly

like me, or trust me. And with them being so young themselves, well they were just a little bit full of

themselves, and cocky, I think."

Guthrie didn't like that, I could tell by his stiffening up. I didn't care for it, either, but I was inclined to be

less put out, mostly because I wanted to hear more about our mother.

"Why would they say that, though?" Guthrie persisted. "It seems as though they would have been glad

to have had you around. They had a tough time. They could have used the help."

His voice had a bit of accusation in it.

"I would have been more than willing to help, Guthrie, I assure you. They didn't want it. I did come around a bit

for awhile after your mother was killed. But then they decided that I wasn't to visit ."

"Just like that?" Guthrie asked, looking skeptical.

"As I said, there were issues between us. Misunderstandings. Unfortunately, we never resolved the issues. I've

sent letters over the years. I never got any response."

"Hmm," Guthrie said, looking thoughtful.

I felt that this little meet and greet wasn't getting off on the right foot.

"Can you tell us something about mom?" I intervened, hoping to steer the talk to something that would make

Guthrie settle down.

Instantly, Karissa got more animated. "Oh, yes! Anything in particular you want to know?"

Since Guthrie didn't speak up, I said, "Probably some more about when she was a kid. Or a teenager."

"Alright." And Karissa launched into a story about when mom had been a Girl Scout, and had been

set on the goal of selling the most cookies of anybody else in the troop. She had camped out on the neighbor's doorstep

the morning after she'd picked up her cookies, so as to be the first Girl Scout knocking on the door. She'd then worked her

way down the street, selling to most of the residents on that street and the next street over, before any of the other girls

were even up and about.

Karissa laughed a little. "Some of the neighbors weren't too happy to be woken up so early, but when they saw that it was

Kate, they were forgiving. All of the neighborhood loved her."

After that, Karissa asked us a few questions, about what we both liked to do, and what grade we were in at school.

When she asked what our plans were after high school graduation, she looked at Guthrie first.

"How about you, Guthrie?"

"I haven't decided," Guthrie said. "Probably a trade school."

Karissa didn't attempt to hide her look of dismay. "A trade school? Why not college?"

"Trade school for welding or somethin'," Guthrie said. "I'm not really thinking that I'll spend four years in college. I plan

to stay around to work the ranch."

"And Adam and Brian-they're fine with you not furthering you education?" Karissa asked.

The way she said it seemed to suggest that there was something wrong with Guthrie not pursuing a college degree.

Before Guthrie could answer, I spoke up. "Our family is fine with us doing whatever we want to do. As long as we finish

high school, they understand. They want us to go to college, I mean, if that's what we want-"

Guthrie gave me a look that plainly said he was aggravated, so I shut up.

"I see," Karissa said. I'd began to notice that she said that quite a bit.

"Welders make decent money," Guthrie informed her. "And, like I said, I plan on living and working on the ranch."

"What about you, Harlie?" she asked.

I told her I planned to go to college, and then veterinary school.

"A veterinarian? That's certainly a noble profession," she said, with a smile. I got the feeling, though, that she

didn't quite approve.

After a few more minutes, Guthrie pushed away from the picnic table. "We need to be goin'," he said, and stood up.

I was disappointed. I'd hoped to hear more about when our mother was a teenager, and all of that.

"Oh, the time went so quickly," Karissa said, sounding disappointed, too.

"We've got chores," Guthrie said.

Karissa stood up, too, smoothing her skirt. "Yes, there's always a lot of those to do on a ranch, isn't there?"

I sighed, and got to my feet. Guthrie was shuffling his feet and looking a little uncomfortable.

"Well," he hesitated, "goodbye."

"Goodbye, Guthrie," Karissa answered.

Guthrie walked on to the truck, and I turned to look at Karissa.

"I'm glad we could talk for a while," she said, and I nodded.

"Is there a time we could meet again? When we could have a longer conversation?" she asked.

"I'll talk to Guthrie-"

"I don't think Guthrie was all that happy to talk to me," she shared.

She sounded sad, and I felt bad for her. I didn't think Guthrie had been rude, or anything, but he hadn't

exactly been friendly, either.

"Guthrie just takes a while to warm up to people," I told her.

Karissa nodded, but didn't look convinced.

"Perhaps it could be just the two of us the next time," she suggested.

I considered that, thinking that might be best, at least until Guthrie got used to the idea a little more.

"Okay. I have a night class at the high school on Wednesday nights. Tomorrow. Maybe you could meet me there

before it starts? If you want to."

"That sounds wonderful. What time?"

"The class starts at six. Maybe you could meet me about five?" I asked.

"I'll be there. Would you like me to bring some pictures of when your mother was a little girl?"

"Yes." I could hardly believe my luck. "And some of her as a teenager. If you have any?"

She smiled. "I do. And I'll bring them as well."

"Okay. Bye," I said.

She said goodbye, and I ran to the truck. I didn't want to make Guthrie any more irritated by having

to wait on me. I got in the cab, and shut my door, looking at Guthrie, a little breathless from running.

"What do you think?" I asked immediately.

"I don't trust her," Guthrie said, and pressed on the gas as we sped out of the city limits.

7


	5. Questions without real answers

I looked at Guthrie, aghast. "What do you mean, you don't trust her?" I demanded.

"I just don't. Somethin's not right."

"Be specific!" I snapped.

"Well, you notice that she never would say what happened with Adam and Brian. Or tell the reason

that they told her not to come around anymore."

"Maybe she thought if she told us, it would sound like she was bad-mouthing them or something. I already told

her not to talk bad about them to me-" I suggested.

"Maybe," Guthrie conceded, not sounding at all like he believed that.

"Well, what do you think then?" I asked, feeling exasperated. And disappointed, too. I wanted Guthrie

to be on board for this whole thing.

"I think we should talk to the family about it. Tonight, after supper."

"Okay," I said reluctantly. Then, after a moment, I said, "I have an idea. What about if I talked to

her again about it first? Told her that I have to know what happened between Adam and Brian and her?"

"That won't work," Guthrie said, with a shake of his head. "I went at it every way but backwards today

and she wouldn't give it up. Whatever it is that's between her and them, she's not sayin'."

"Well, I'll tell her that I want to know what it is. Or else I won't talk to her anymore," I told him.

Guthrie gave me a sideways glance and then looked back at the road.

"You don't mean that, Har," he said.

"How do you know I don't mean it?" I challenged.

"Because I know," Guthrie said calmly. "You're set on this. Getting to know her, talk to her, all of that.

You aren't gonna tell her to get lost."

"Not because of her, Guthrie! Because of Mom! I've found out more about Mom in the last few days than

I have in my whole life," I tried to explain.

Guthrie was quiet for a few minutes, and I simmered inside.

"You don't understand," I finally accused him, looking away, out the window on my side.

"I do understand," he argued. "I just think we should talk about it with everybody at home. I'm worried, Har. I

can't explain exactly why. I just know that I am."

Guthrie's opinion means a lot to me. He has what Adam calls "good horse sense". I don't like to be

on the opposite side of things from Guthrie.

"Okay," I said. "I'm not disagreeing that we should talk to the family about it. But let me ask her

one more time. Then, when we talk to everybody else, we'll know more about the whole situation."

Guthrie shrugged. "Okay," he said, reluctantly.

"I'll do it tomorrow night. She's meeting me before my class starts," I said.

"Hmm," he said, which is really no answer at all.

7

When we got home, Adam and Crane were standing in front of the barn, obviously in the middle

of a conversation.

They stopped talking, though, when Guthrie and I walked over to them.

"Where have you kids been?" Adam asked us.

"Got held up talkin'," Guthrie said. "Sorry we're late."

I had to admire Guthrie. He told the truth, without details, showing respect, and they just

accepted his answer without further questions. Honestly, I was going to have to try to

learn how to do that.

7

The next morning at breakfast, while I ate my eggs and toast, I was trying to think of a way

to stay in town after school. It would be so much easier than coming home and then trying to explain

why I wanted to leave again right away, which is what I would have to do if I wanted to meet Karissa

at five.

"Hannah?" I began, talking softly so I wouldn't be overheard.

"Hmm?" she asked, taking another drink of coffee.

"Tonight's my class," I reminded her. "And I was wondering if it'd be okay if I went to

Lori's for awhile after school, then went to class after that."

"What about your homework?" she asked.

"I can do it at Lori's. Or finish it in the morning."

"You're always so tired on Thursday mornings. That's not a good time to be doing homework," Hannah said.

I knew she was right about that. By the time class got out, and I drove home, and then settled my

mind down enough to sleep, it was usually pretty late. Hence, the next morning, I was usually

dragging.

"It'll be alright," I told her.

She gave me a look that said, "Really?"

"I haven't hung out with Lori for a long time," I said. I knew that would make a difference to

her. Hannah is always thinking that I don't do enough socializing. She'd like it if I went to more

activities at school. Sports events, dances, and all of that.

"Well, that would be nice," Hannah said. "But maybe a Saturday would be a better day for

you to get together with your friends. You and Lori and Kristin could hang out, and if you want

to do it here, we can make some pizza-"

She broke off as she saw my face. "What?"

"That's a good idea," I assured her. "It's just that I was thinking about today."

"Well," she said, "ask Adam what he thinks."

No! I hate it when she pulls the Adam card.

I sighed, and took my plate to the sink, going to gather up my backpack and jacket for school.

I was grumbling to myself about what was the good of talking to Hannah if she was just going

to pass the buck on to Adam.

"Come on," Guthrie said, walking past me, with a jelly-covered biscuit in his hand. "Lonnie's

bringin' his new cross bow to show me before school starts."

"I'm gonna drive myself this morning," I told him.

"Yeah?" he said questioningly, around his mouthful of biscuit.

"Well, I think I am. Let me talk to Adam real quick."

"Well, hurry up," Guthrie said.

I went back thru the kitchen, carrying my backpack and shrugging into my jacket.

I'd thought Adam might still be there, but only Evan was left, still sitting at the table,

eating bacon and reading the newspaper.

"Where's Adam?" I asked him.

"He went that way," Evan said, pointing at the back door without looking up from

his paper.

I went outside, giving Clarence a hurried scratch behind his ear. I found Adam, along with

Brian, with their heads under the hood of the Jeep.

"Try it now," Adam said, and Brian got in, and turned the key, but the engine didn't catch.

I heard Brian mutter something that sounded suspiciously like 'son of a bitch', and then

he got out and came back to stick his head back under the hood.

I stood there for a couple of moments and Adam turned his head to look over at me.

"Shouldn't you be headin' to school?" he asked me.

"I wanted to talk to you first," I told him.

Adam straightened to a standing position, wiping his hands on a rag.

"What?" he asked.

"Is it alright if I go to Lori's after school, and then go to my class?" There, I thought. I hadn't actually

lied.

"What about your homework?" he asked, sounding like an echo of Hannah. "You'd be awfully

tired in the morning."

"I'll get it done," I said. "I'll work on it at her house."

"What about supper?"

I wanted to make a wisecrack to him about how I didn't think Lori's mom would starve

her family by not cooking supper, but I restrained myself.

"I'll eat there," I assured him.

Adam stood there, looking at me dubiously, and I knew he doubted my word that I would

eat a healthy supper.

"Her mom's a good cook," I said, trying a small smile.

"Harlie, you know you have to eat-" he began, launching into his concern over my diabetes.

"I will. I promise." Another moment of silence, and then I said, "I've been doing good, Adam. I won't

mess up and not eat."

"Alright," he agreed, giving permission.

"Thanks," I said, and gave him a smile, hoisting my backpack over my shoulder. "I'll see you tonight, then."

"Hey," he said, as I started to walk away.

I turned back to look at him.

"Home right after class," he reminded me.

"Yep."

"But drive cautious," he went on. "There's a lot of deer out at night now."

"I will," I said, and made my escape, going to tell Guthrie that I was going to drive myself to

school.

7

I had a little trouble concentrating in some of my classes that day. I kept thinking ahead to

seeing Karissa. I was eager to hear more things about my mother, but I was also determined that

she would tell me what had happened between her and Adam and Brian.

After school I was tossing my backpack into the truck seat, Guthrie came up to talk

to me.

"So, I'll see you later," he said, but the way he said it sounded like a question, not a statement.

"Yes, Guth," I said, crossing my eyes at him. "I'm not running off with Karissa. I'm just going to

talk to her."

"Okay. I just worry."

"I know. But you don't have to."

"Huh," he said, in dismissal of my comment. "Okay. We'll talk in the morning about how it

went with her."

I nodded, and watched as he ambled away. Lori came rushing over. Since she didn't have her

mom's car that day, she was going to ride with me to her house.

I'd confided in Lori about Karissa after swearing her to secrecy.

"Wow," she said. "That's just wild. An aunt that you never knew existed."

"Yeah. I can't figure out why the guys would lie to us kids. They've never lied to us

about anything before," I said.

"Parents do weird things sometimes," Lori said. "Well," she added, "you know what I mean. They're

like your parents-Adam, and Brian, and-"

"It's okay. I know what you mean. They are like my parents," I told her.

"Well, parents sometimes don't tell you things because they think you're better off not

knowing," Lori added.

"Yeah," I agreed. "I'm going to find out from her tonight though. What happened, I mean."

There wasn't really time to do homework, or much of anything else, because by the time

we got to Lori's house, and talked for a while, it was time for me to leave so I could get

back to Angel's Camp to meet up with Karissa.

Lori's mom, busy at work in the kitchen, began to fuss when I left.

"I thought you were going to stay and eat supper with us, Harlie," she said.

"Thanks, but I need to be heading to my night class."

"It starts this early?" she asked.

"No, but there's somebody I want to talk to before class starts," I told her.

"Of course," she nodded in approval, and I knew she was thinking I meant to talk to

a teacher.

I looked at Lori when her mother turned back to her baking, and shrugged my

shoulders.

As I pulled into the school parking lot, I parked and shut off the truck. Looking around, I

didn't see Karissa's car. So I pulled out my English book, and started working on the vocabulary

worksheet. I was intent on it, so I was startled and jumped a little when Karissa rapped on my

window.

I opened the door, laying my homework back in the seat.

"Hello!" she said, with a big smile.

"Hi," I said.

"How much time do we have before your class starts? It's five now."

"Around an hour," I told her.

"Well, let's not sit here. Perhaps we could go get something to eat. Would you like that?"

"That would be good," I told her. "I need to eat soon or my level will be off."

"Your level?" she asked, looking at me questioningly.

"Blood sugar level. I have diabetes."

Karissa looked startled, and then she nodded. "Another thing we have in common, Harlie."

"You have diabetes?" I asked, in surprise.

"Yes. I do." She motioned for me to follow along with her. "We can talk about it on the way to

a restaurant."

I reached into the truck to grab my keys and my wallet, and then followed her to her still-running

car.

"Where would you like to go eat at?" she asked me.

The choices in Angels Camp are kind of limited. "There's the pizza parlor. And the chicken shack."

"I'd like to take you to a real restaurant," she said. "Someplace nice. There's a wonderful

steakhouse in Modesto. Should we go there?"

Modesto is over thirty miles from Angels Camp. I knew there was no way we could get

there and eat, and then get back before my class started.

When I hesitated, Karissa guessed correctly at where my thoughts were.

"It won't hurt anything if you're a few minutes late for your class, will it?"

I knew it wasn't right, but I justified that finding out more about my mother, and also

what had happened between her and the family was more important than being a little

late for class. I pushed the thought of Crane's disapproving face, if he were to know that I'd been willfully late for class, out of

my mind. After all, there was no reason why he would ever know.

So I told her alright, and we got into her car, and began to travel smoothly the highway

towards Modesto.

"How long have you been a diabetic?" I asked her.

"About five years now, since I was diagnosed. You're so young to have to deal with it."

"So it runs in the family?" I asked.

"Well, my mother, your grandmother, she was a borderline diabetic.'

I asked what that was, and Karissa said that meant she only had to watch what she ate,

and have checkups.

"My mom didn't have it, though," I said.

"No. Kate escaped it. She hardly had a sick day in her growing up years."

That brought me around to my most pressing thought. I'd promised Guthrie I would find out,

and I meant to do it.

"What happened between you and Adam and Brian?" I asked her.

Karissa tapped her perfectly manicured and polished fingernails on the steering wheel.

"Let's talk about that while we're eating," she said.

I nodded in grudging agreement, and she started talking about my mom, and more about her childhood. I

was perfectly happy to hear the stories, but also determined that she wasn't going to wiggle

out of telling me again.

At the steakhouse, Karissa encouraged me to order whatever I wanted.

I settled on a ribeye steak and a baked potato, with mixed vegetables. Karissa ordered something

similar, but with a glass of wine to my order of lemonade. I wondered about her ordering

the wine, and then driving, but then I figured she was probably used to it.

"Tell me about your brothers," Karissa said, when we were nearly done eating.

Since this was the first time she'd asked about, or acted interested in the boys at all, I was

encouraged, and eager to talk about them. I talked a little about each of them, pride evident

in my voice.

"And has Daniel had any success in Nashville?" she asked.

"He's sold one of his songs," I said proudly. "And he's still singing."

"Crane always seemed like such an intelligent young man. It's a shame he couldn't do

something with his business degree," she said.

"He's done something with it," I defended. "He handles all the ranch finances. Well, mostly

all. He says he's doing what he wants to do right now."

"And what do you think of your two sister in laws?" Karissa asked.

"I think they're both wonderful. Hannah is the best big sister anyone could ask for." I rambled on

about Hannah for a few minutes. Then, not wanting to leave Clare out of things, I added, "And I'm

the one that introduced Clare to Brian. She's a nurse-"

When I started talking, or rather gushing, about Isaac, I realized that I didn't know anything about

Karissa's personal life.

"Do you have any kids?" I asked her.

"No, I never had any," she said. Her voice sounded funny. Strange. And even though I usually think

I'm good at reading people, I couldn't tell if she was happy or sad about not having any children.

I'd noticed that she wore several rings, including one that looked like a ruby on her ring finger of her

left hand.

"But you're married?" I asked.

"Not right now," she said, and I nearly laughed, I thought that was such a funny answer. Then, I

realized she was serious.

"I was divorced a few months ago," she went on.

"Oh. I'm sorry," I said.

"No need for you to be sorry. By the third time, you aren't nearly as disappointed as when the

first one doesn't work out."

My eyes widened, I know they did. I don't know anybody who's been married three times.

"I am dating a wonderful man now, though," Karissa went on. "I hope you can meet him sometime

soon."

Now I found that a little weird. I barely knew her, and she wanted me to meet her possible fourth

husband?

"Hmm," I said, in answer to that, not committing myself to meeting the man.

"What happened with you and Adam and Brian?" I asked her, yet again, determined to get an

answer this time.

Karissa sighed, and waved to the waitress.

"I'll take another glass of wine," she told her, and then when we were alone again, she said,

"I wasn't happy about your mother marrying your father. She was so young-and she had so many

plans. Then she met Adam, and, after that she let those plans go and she wouldn't listen to reason."

I gave her an intent look. "You didn't like my dad, did you?" I asked directly.

"No, I didn't particularly care for him," she admitted, then hastily added, "but it wasn't really

personal. It was just that he was so much older than her, he should have let her have her time first."

"But they loved each other," I felt compelled to interrupt her. "And my dad adored her. I've heard

stories from my brothers, and from people in town who-"

"I'm not doubting Adam's feelings for Kate, but she never had a chance to discover life before

she was plunked down on a ranch where there was nothing but work, in a town that's barely

on the map. And then she started having babies," Karissa sighed.

"My mom wanted all her babies. Marie told me so. She was a good friend to my mom, and she knew

how my mom felt about things," I said, defensively.

"Marie Baird?" Karissa asked.

When I nodded, Karissa said, "Yes, I remember Marie. And I'm not trying to hurt you, Harlie, but

what else could your mother tell people? She had to, of course, tell people that she wanted to keep

having babies."

I sat back in my chair, feeling hurt inside. Eight kids was a lot. I knew that. I was trying to

get my feelings in some sort of order when Karissa went on.

"Of course, when she finally got you, well, it was all worth it, because she got her girl. After she

was killed, I came to help. I knew those boys couldn't manage on their own. It went well for awhile, and

then they got stubborn. They insisted that they didn't want me turning up to take you or Guthrie or Ford

for overnights. They didn't like the way I handled you. They wanted you to blend in with the boys, not

be treated special, as a little girl should be treated. "

I was trying to process everything she was saying, when she just kept talking.

"I bought you the most darling little dress, and they wouldn't let me dress you in it. They met

me at my car, and demanded that I take the dress and leave, and not come back."

I wrinkled my forehead in thought. "Just because they didn't like the way you wanted to dress me

up?" The whole story just sounded too farfetched to be true.

"Well, that, and they objected to me drinking occasionally," she added.

"Why?" I asked. That, too, sounded far out. Ridiculous.

Karissa shrugged, and leaned back a little as the waitress set the second glass of wine

in front of her.

"It just doesn't sound like them," I said.

"Of course it probably doesn't to you, sweetheart," she said. "You've grown up with them

being your only basis on which to judge people. I'm not saying that they aren't good people, I know

that they've done their best with you and the younger boys. All I'm suggesting is that you could

have had such a different upbringing if they'd have let me be involved."

"I'm not sure I would have wanted a different upbringing," I defended. "I had a happy

childhood."

"I'm glad," she said, and sighed again.

"Why did you show up now?" I asked.

"You're older now, you're grown up. I thought perhaps you would be able to understand

another side to things, besides theirs." She looked across the table at me, and her eyes

were filled with sadness. "I'm lonely, Harlie. I find that I have regrets in my life. Without Kate,

well, I have no one." She paused and then said, significantly, "Except you. I want desparately to

have a relationship with you."

"And Guthrie, too," I said, more in statement than in question.

"Well, of course, if that's something that he would be interested in," she said.

Even at that moment, I could tell by her voice that she wasn't being truthful, that she

didn't mean that about Guthrie.

7


	6. A bounty of photos

I didn't press Karissa any more right then about her personal life, or ask any more about

her skirmishes with Brian and Adam. Instead we talked awhile longer about my mom, and I

asked some questions about my grandparents.

I'd seen one picture of them with my mom and dad on the front porch of our house. My grandmother

was holding Adam, who had been about six months old.

"Did they like my dad?" I asked her, wondering if my grandparents had similar feelings to

hers.

"They agreed with me that she was very young to consider marriage," Karissa said, and I

felt my heart sink. How awful for my mom to have no family support about getting married.

She had been young, and it must have been kind of scary to go against her entire family. I thought

again about that picture. They'd all looked happy in that picture, including my grandma and grandpa.

My mom had been laughing, and my dad had a big grin on his face. My grandfather had his arm

draped over my dad's shoulder. I thought if my grandparents had disliked my dad, and hadn't supported

my parents getting married, why would my grandfather have been so affectionate to him?

We finished our meal, and after Karissa had paid, we were walking out of the restaurant. I glanced up

at the big clock on the wall. It was 6:45. I was already forty-five minutes late for class! I would be an

hour and fifteen minutes late by the time we got back to Angels Camp.

"I'd like to take you shopping," Karissa told me, after we were in the car. "We could go to the

mall."

"You don't need to do that," I told her.

"I want to, Harlie. I can afford it. Please. Let me spoil you a little."

"That's so nice," I said. "But I really need to get back to my class."

"Alright," she said, sounding disappointed, and turning the ignition on to start the car.

"I do appreciate it, though," I told her, not wanting her to think that I was being ungrateful.

"It's alright. I understand. Maybe we can go shopping together soon, though?" she asked, sounding

hopeful.

I was thinking ahead. I knew I had to talk to Adam and Brian, and everybody else at home about

Karissa, and very soon, too. So I wasn't certain just when I would be able to go shopping with her. Though

I was sure after talking to them that everything would settle into place, and that they would be fine

with me having a relationship with Karissa. I mean, I wasn't a baby anymore. If they'd objected

to the way she wanted to deal with me in the past, that wouldn't be the case now.

Still, I was hesitant to commit to a definite date for a shopping trip.

So I said, casually, "That sounds like it would be fun."

Karissa chattered most of the trip back to Angels Camp, about my mom, a little bit, but also

about herself. And for some reason, her second husband figured heavily into her conversation.

It occurred to me that she was talking a little erratically. I began to feel a little nervous, and

watched her driving, wondering about those two glasses of wine that she'd had.

I didn't realize until we'd pulled back into the high school parking lot, and I got out, that I'd

been gripping the door handle on the drive back, taut with nerves.

Karissa got out, too, and watched as I went to my truck to gather up my textbook for class.

"Thanks for supper," I told her.

"I enjoyed it."

"I've been meaning to ask you, did you know that I was working at the Dari Kurl? Is that why you

came there to see me?" I asked her curiously.

"No, that was actually just a happy coincidence. I'd been over at Angels Camp, refreshing my

memory on where the high school was located. To be honest, I hadn't made up my mind entirely on how I was

going to approach you. I was thrilled to see you standing there, ready to take my order," she said, with a smile.

"And you knew for sure it was me? I look so much like my mom that you were certain?" I asked.

"I would have bet every cent that I have on you being Kate's daughter," she said, and I felt

a flash of joy.

She smiled at me, and it seemed to me that her eyes were a little unfocused, and I remembered

how her driving had concerned me. Maybe she'd had too much wine.

I gave her a closer look. "Are you okay to drive back to Modesto?" I asked her.

"Of course. I'm fine. Why?"

"I just wondered," I said, my voice trailing off.

"I'm just fine. Call me soon, alright?"

"Yes. I will."

We said goodbye, and as I turned to walk towards the school building, she said, "Enjoy your class."

I turned around, and waved at her.

7

Class was in full swing when I walked into the classroom. Cindy Noel, who teaches full-time at the college

and also teaches this night class, looked at me as I walked in, but only nodded to me, and kept talking

to the class.

I listened in the rest of the class, trying to absorb what I'd missed out on. During the last few

minutes of class, which is when questions can be asked about assignments, and people generally

visit with each other, Miss Noel made her way to my desk, where I was scribbling notes down, and

gathering up loose papers.

"Everything okay, Harlie?" she asked me.

I looked up into her face, seeing concern.

"Yeah. Everything's okay. Sorry about walking in late."

"It's no problem. I was just concerned. You're usually early to class, so I was beginning

to wonder about you."

"I got held up talking to someone," I said, in explanation.

"It happens," she said, with a nod of understanding.

"Did I miss a lot?" I asked her.

"I asked for the essays that I assigned last week. Did you finish yours?"

"Yeah," I said, searching thru my papers and then handing it to her.

"I had everybody take some notes on the book that we're going to be reading next. You might want to see if you can borrow from

somebody. Or I can show you the printout from the overhead if you want to see that."

I thought about that, judging how much time it would take me to copy notes. Maybe I didn't even

really need them.

"Are they real important?" I asked, and I swear that Miss Noel rolled her eyes.

"Yes, Harlie, they're important," she said. "It's some information that's going to be on the test

next week." I didn't miss the eye roll, but her tone wasn't condescending.

I looked around at the rapidly thinning group of students in the room.

"Could I borrow yours?" I asked. "I don't want to hold anybody up while I copy their

notes."

"Sure," she said, and went up to her desk, flipping on the overheard projector. I went

to work copying the notes from it.

By the time I'd finished we were alone in the room, and Miss Noel was sitting at her

desk, flipping thru a magazine. I'd always figured that even though she was really beautiful, she

was a brainiac. I mean, with her being a college teacher, and all. Therefore, I was a little

surprised to see she was reading a Cosmopolitan magazine.

"I'm done," I told her, and gathered up all my stuff.

"Okay," she said, and turned off the overhead, standing up to push in her chair, and slinging

her purse onto her shoulder.

We walked out together. The parking lot was sort of eerie, with her car and my truck the only

vehicles there.

"Have a good evening," she told me.

"You too."

I walked over to my truck, glad for the parking lot lights. I was beside the truck before

I even saw the car sitting at the end of the lot. I squinted at it, and then got into

the truck, starting it up, and pulling forward to shine the headlights onto the car.

I inched forward a little, to be closer. It was Karissa's car, I was nearly certain.

I was nearly scared out of my wits when her car door opened and Karissa stepped out.

I took a deep calming breath and got out.

"Hello, sweetheart," she said, as casually as if she hadn't just frightened me out of my skin.

"Hi," I said, just barely managing to keep from asking her what she was doing here.

"I forgot that I brought those scrapbooks and albums for you that I promised," she told me. "I knew you'd be anxious to have them, so

I decided to wait until you were finished."

"Oh." I was surprised that I'd forgotten about the albums. And I was glad she'd remembered.

I walked over to her car, leaving my truck running and the headlights shining.

Karissa reached into the back seat of her car, and pulled out what looked like five or six

albums.

"Wow," I said, hardly daring to believe my luck at such a bounty of photos, "are these all

of my mom?"

"Yes, along with some of your grandparents, as well."

She held them out to me, and I loaded them all in my arms.

"This is great, thank you," I said, and I meant it.

"There's one or two pictures that I want to show you," she said, and followed along behind me as I walked

back to my truck.

"Okay," I said, and laid them in my truck seat. I pulled my flashlight from under my seat, and

held it on the albums.

"Which one?" I asked her.

"Let's see," she said. "I think it's this one."

I picked up the album she was pointing to, and she opened it, flipping thru the pages.

"Kate was three years old here," she said, and I leaned forward to look at the picture, with the light of

the flashlight. It looked like my mom had been dressed up, in a frilly dress, and holding a basket full of

Easter eggs.

"I can't wait to look thru all of them," I told her.

"I want to show you another one," she said, and she kept flipping thru the album, but then

kept stopping to show me picture after picture.

Since I'd left the truck running, my radio was still on, and when I heard the time I

felt a burst of panic.

It was nearly ten! I should have been at home thirty minutes ago. They would be worried

by now. By the time I got home-it would be worse than worried.

"I need to go," I said, sort of abruptly.

"Oh, of course," she said.

"They'll be worried about me at home," I tried to explain.

"You're so grownup and responsible," she said. "Don't they trust you even if you're a few minutes

late?"

"It's not that they don't trust me," I said, as I pushed the albums over further in the seat so

there'd be room for me to get in. "They just worry. Especially if it's dark out."

"I see," Karissa said, but it was obvious that she didn't see. Not at all.

"They're protective," I said. "And they're pretty strict."

"Why do they feel the need to be so strict with you?" she asked.

"I don't know," I said, realizing that I hadn't really ever asked myself that question before.

There'd been times in my life that I'd wished they weren't so strict. But I'd never really questioned

exactly WHY they were. They just were. It was the way it was.

"They just are. They were that way with the boys, too," I tried to explain.

"But more so with you, I expect," Karissa said, "I imagine that they're probably stricter with you than they were with

the boys. Isn't that right?"

I hesitated, thinking about that for a moment. Since I didn't have an answer, I said,

"I really need to go."

"Alright, sweetheart. Will you call me? We have that shopping trip to do, remember?"

"Okay, I will," I said, and then added, "Thank you for staying around to give me the albums. You

didn't have to."

"I wanted to. Oh!" she said, "I just remembered! I have something else for you!" She hurried

back to her car. I followed her with my flashlight. Karissa opened the car door, and, guided by the dome

light, she reached into the back seat again and pulled out a wrapped rectangle box, with a bow on top.

"What is it?" I asked her, surprised.

"Just a little present," Karissa said. "I've had it for a few days now."

"You didn't have to buy me a present," I said, wondering why she had.

"I wanted to! Open it, I want to see if you like it."

She seemed so happy to be giving me a gift, and I've been taught to be polite when

accepting things from people. I felt a rising sense of panic about needing to start for home,

but I took time to unwrap the box. It was hard to see it very well in the light of the parking lot, and with

the flashlight that Karissa had taken from me to hold, but I could see well enough to tell

that it was a sweater. An incredibly soft sweater. I'd never felt anything like it before.

"It's hard to see the color, but it's a soft blue, a sky blue," she went on. "Do you like blue?"

"Yes, I do," I assured her. "It's really soft-"

"It's cashmere," she told me.

I had sure never had anything made of cashmere before, but I knew enough about it to know that

it was wildly expensive.

"Thank you," I said. "But you shouldn't have-I mean, it's not my birthday or anything."

"I saw it and I wanted to buy it for you. It just seemed perfect for you. I hope it fits. You'll let

me know, won't you?"

"Oh, yeah, sure. I definitely will," I promised.

"There's a wonderful store in San Francisco," Karissa went on. "I'd love to take you

there. It caters to your age group in fashions. I think you'd like it."

"It sounds fun," I said, trying to be polite. I absolutely had to get started for home.

"Well, thank you very much," I said. "I've got to get going though."

"Alright. Call me when you can." She sounded reluctant to see me go, and sort of sad. I felt sorry for

her.

"Okay." I told her goodbye, and started driving on the road out of town, and towards home. It had

been such an eventful evening, and Karissa had given me so much to think about. And now, I had

all those picture albums to look at! I was debating about where I should keep them at, where they

wouldn't be seen. I wanted to share them with Guthrie, of course, but tonight definitely wasn't the time

to tell the rest of the family about Karissa.

I tried to control the worry about what was going to be said to me when I got home. I was within five

miles from home when I met another truck coming towards me. As soon as I passed it, I thought it looked

like Evan's truck. He must have recognized me, too, because I heard him honk once, then twice. I pulled over

to the side of the road and stopped, waiting while he backed up until he was even with me, his window down.

I rolled my window down, too, and he turned a flashlight on my face.

"Where have you been?" he demanded. "You've got everybody all stirred up."

"I was taking some extra notes," I said, and I thought I heard him chuckle a little.

"Yeah, okay," he said, plainly not believing me.

"I was!"

"Okay. Keep stickin' to that story, but I don't think it's gonna fly with Adam."

"Are you the only one out looking for me?" I asked, subdued.

"Yeah, I offered to do it. They're all still in the barn. We lost a cow today."

"Oh, no," I said, feeling bad. "Which one?"

"Not one of your favorites. Besides, you ought to be glad I'm the one that came. I don't

think you would've wanted Adam or Brian to be the ones out huntin' you," Evan said,

and I heard the amusement in his voice.

"I'm just a little late," I began.

"An hour," Evan corrected.

"Okay. An hour, then. Even so. I'm late. It's not like I robbed a bank," I said, gearing up my defenses.

"I'm glad you're not a bank robber," Evan said, and this time I knew for sure I heard him

snicker. "But whatever, get headed on home. I'll follow you."

"Will you stick up for me?" I asked, starting to feel desparate.

"Not if you're goin' to tell me you were just takin' extra notes. Cause I don't buy it."

'If I tell you the truth, will you stand up for me then?" I appealed to him.

"Maybe. But we don't have the time to get into it now. We need to get you home. You know how worried they get about you when you're out drivin' at night."

"Night. Day. Driving. Walking. Eating. Not eating. When don't they worry about me?" I muttered.

"Word of advice. Lose the attitude before you get home. Adam's pretty mad," Evan said, and

my stomach knotted in nerves.

So I drove on, and Evan turned around somewhere down the road, and came up behind me, following

me.

In front of the house, I parked, and then put my jacket over the photo albums, and the

sweater, to hide them from anyone who might look into the truck cab. I gathered up

my backpack, with all my books and homework from school, which would, I thought glumly,

have to be done in the early morning. I got out, slinging my backpack over my shoulder, and waited while Evan pulled up and

parked, turning off his headlights.

The front porch light was on, and so was the barn light. I would have chosen the house. I'd

rather face Hannah, but before I could make that choice, I saw Adam step out of the barn, and

he yelled, "Harlie! Get over here!"

I winced a little.

Evan gave me a nudge. "Better not make him wait, shortcake."

"I'm going," I muttered, and walked towards the barn, until I was directly in front of where

Adam was standing, his hands on his hips.

"Where in hell have you been?" he demanded.

I decided, in that moment, to emulate Guthrie.

"I got held up at class. Sorry about being late," I said.

There, I thought. That was smooth. Respectful sounding, without giving away any details. Just like

Guthrie. That would satisfy Adam. Right? Wrong.

"Class is over at nine," Adam said. "That hasn't changed. Has it?" His tone of voice

said that he knew very well that the time hadn't changed.

"No."

"No, what?"

"No, the time hasn't changed," I said.

"So what was this particular 'holdup'?" he asked then.

"I was taking some notes," I said.

Adam didn't say anything then. He just stood there, looking at me. His expression didn't change.

"I didn't mean to worry you all," I said.

"If you didn't mean to worry us, then you would have been home on time," Adam said

tersely.

"Okay," I said, shortly.

"Okay? What does that mean?" Adam asked, sounding exasperated.

"It means okay. It won't happen again," I said.

"Yeah? I hope not. Because I think that you're forgetting that driving is a privilege. Not a right.

If you can't be home by when you're told to be, you don't need to be driving for awhile," Adam said,

using his really stern voice.

I bit at my bottom lip.

"I'm sorry," I said, again, kind of quietly. I hate it when Adam gets like this. And I didn't

want to get grounded from driving.

I was tired, and a little overwhelmed, with Karissa's sudden appearance

in my life, and everything else. And now Adam was mad. Sudden tears sprang to my eyes. I swiped at my cheek, and blinked

them away.

For the first time since I'd walked up to face him, Adam's face softened a little.

"Okay," he said, with a sigh. Then, in a gentler voice he asked, "Did you eat?"

I nodded, and he said, "Homework all done?"

I shook my head. "No," I said, feeling bone weary.

"Well, I guess you better get up a little earlier in the morning then," he said. "To get it done."

"Okay," I agreed, looking at him miserably.

Adam stepped closer to me, and put a hand on the back of my neck.

"Is this class too much for you?" he asked. His voice was kind now, and gentle, and

somehow that made it worse. I wiped at my wet eyes again.

"No."

"Are you sure? Because if it is, there's no shame in admitting to it," he told me.

"The class isn't that hard," I told him.

"But there's something on your mind. Isn't there?"

After all these years, I guessed I shouldn't be surprised that Adam was able to read me.

"Yeah," I admitted. "There's something."

Adam was quiet for a moment, looking intently into my face. I tried to meet his eyes, even

though it was difficult.

"Maybe we better talk about whatever it is, huh?" he said quietly.

I nodded. "Yeah."

"Tomorrow night alright to talk?" he asked me. "It's late, and I want you to get to bed, so you

can get up early to do that homework."

"Tomorrow night's alright," I said.

"Okay." Adam looked at me a moment longer, and then gave me a small smile.

"Better head on in, and get to bed," he said.

"Okay," I said, and turned to go towards the house, resettling my backpack on my shoulder.

Before I'd gone more than a few steps, I stopped, and turned back to him. He was still

standing in the same spot, watching me.

"I know you don't like to, but can we talk about mom sometime?" I asked him quietly.

In the barn's light, I could see his surprised expression.

"Yeah," he said. "We can do that."

7


	7. Coffee needed

I was so tired the next morning. I was dragging, truly dragging. I had resolved before I fell asleep

that I would get up without being called the next morning, and get started on my homework. I didn't want to

give Adam any more reason to think about me being late getting home.

But, though that was my plan, I wasn't successful at it. I was still sleeping when I heard a rapping

on my door, and somebody hollering for me to get up.

I twisted, squinting at my alarm clock. Apparently, I had slept right thru the ringing. I half-sat up,

and then, that's all the further I managed. I was still sitting like that, trying to motivate myself

to get moving, when the door opened without warning.

"You up?" Crane asked, standing there in the doorway.

"I'm up."

"Not very far up," he denied. "Come on. Feet on the floor."

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, and stood up. "Feet on the floor," I said.

"Shift into high gear," he said, and went back down the hall.

When Crane had gone, I grabbed my clean clothes for school and went down the hall

to the bathroom, intent on taking a quick shower. That's exactly what I did, mostly because

there was absolutely no hot water left, and the freezing water made taking a longer shower

very unappealing.

After I got dressed, I went down the stairs, wrapping my hair into a messy bun at the back

of my neck.

I stopped by where I'd laid down my backpack the night before, on the end of one of the

couches. Taking out a science worksheet, I started working on it, sitting at Crane's desk.

Brian came into the living room, and saw me sitting there. When I looked up at him,

he frowned.

"I was just about to yell for you," he said. "Come eat breakfast."

"Okay," I said, laying down my pen, and following behind him as he walked back towards the

kitchen.

"This gettin' home late from places has gotten to be a habit with you lately," he said, turning

back slightly to give me a look.

"I was taking some notes," I said.

"I know that's what you told Adam," he said.

I stopped walking to look at him, and he paused, too.

"I did have to take some notes after class was over!" I insisted.

"How come?" he asked.

"What?" I asked, blinking at him, feeling like my brain was foggy from lack of sleep.

"How come you had to take notes when class was over?" he asked, seemingly patiently. "Why

didn't you take them during class like you're supposed to?"

I looked up at him, trying to clear my thoughts, and realizing that I'd walked right into

the trap of his questioning.

I'd have to lie. That was all there was to it. But while my mind was scrambling for a lie to

tell, an excuse to give that would sound plausible, Brian reached out and took my chin

in his hand, tipping my head up.

"You're thinkin' about lying to me," he said, sort of quietly, and I felt my face flush

hot. I HAD been going to lie. And to Brian, of all people. And he knew it, too. There was

no point to me denying it. But I still tried.

I said, "No, I wasn't going to lie. And there's a good reason I had to do notes after class."

He raised a questioning eyebrow. "Uh huh?" he asked, taking his hand from my chin.

"It's not something I can tell you about in just a couple of minutes," I said.

Hannah came to the doorway of the kitchen. "Harlie," she said, seeing Brian and I standing

there. "Come and eat right now. You're going to be late."

I was glad for the reprieve, and started past Brian. He didn't attempt to stop me. He just

said, in what I found to be an ominous tone, "We need to have a serious talk real soon if you're thinkin'

you can start lying to me."

"I don't think that," I muttered, crossly, as I went on toward the crowded kitchen. "I know that's grounds

for murder as far as you're concerned."

"Maybe not murder," he said. "But you might wish it was by the time I'm done with you."

I shot him a glance, unable to hide my horrified expression. He didn't look particularly angry.

Just serious, and stern. Really, really stern.

I stopped again, wishing he didn't have the ability to intimidate me so. I knew I couldn't go on

keeping Karissa a secret from them. If I did, I was just going to succeed in getting myself into trouble. As it

was, I hoped that when I told them about her, they wouldn't consider that keeping quiet this long

had been like lying.

"Bri-" I began.

"Harlie, come on!" Hannah said again, appearing right behind me. "Guthrie's going to be ready

to go, and you haven't even eaten yet."

"I actually DO need to talk to you and Adam about something," I said, in a rush, looking up at Brian.

He nodded, and for a moment neither one of us said anything. He just gave me 'that look'.

"Adam said tonight would be good to talk," I said, nervously.

"Okay." He didn't say anymore, and I went to sit down in my seat at the table. I let the talk at the

table float around me, and concentrated on eating eggs and toast, and a glass of juice. Sometimes, it

seems like I don't eat so much for hunger, but because I know if I don't eat that I'll start feeling bad,

and my diabetes will be all messed up.

"You need to go to bed early tonight," Hannah said, eating her own eggs.

"I will."

"You say that, but you never do," she denied.

"I will tonight," I promised.

"You're not invincible, Harlie. Just because you're young doesn't mean you don't need to

take care of yourself," Hannah went on, spreading jelly on her toast, and giving me a serious look.

I was so tired, and feeling really grouchy. I had to bite my lip to keep from spouting off to

Hannah. I was just so not in the mood for any more lectures.

I knew she was only speaking out of concern, though, and worry. So I nodded in response

to her comment.

Guthrie nudged me in the side. "Leavin' in fifteen minutes," he told me, swigging down the

rest of his milk.

I nodded, and finished eating, and then went to gather up my science worksheet that I'd started

on, shoving it back into my backpack.

Adam was waiting at the door, cup of coffee in hand, to see Guthrie and I off for the day, as

was his usual habit.

"Homework didn't get all done, did it?" he asked quietly.

I sighed tiredly. I knew that was one of those rhetorical questions that wasn't really

a question at all.

"No."

As he gave me a dad-type look, I said, "I'll work on it on the way to school. And at study hall."

"Well, we'll have that talk tonight," he reminded me.

"Okay."

"Have a good day," he said, like he does every day.

"You too," I said, replying in my customary way. I would have stopped at my truck

to grab at least one of those picture albums to show Guthrie, but Adam was still standing on the

porch, watching, so I just got into Guthrie's truck, and slammed the door. Really, really hard.

"Hey, easy," Guthrie said. "My old truck can't take that kind of abuse."

"Sorry."

I started working furiously on the science worksheet as we drove.

"Can you stop at the gas station?" I asked him. "I need some coffee."

"I guess we've got time," he said, sounding reluctant.

"I need to tell you about last night," I said, and the rest of the ride I filled Guthrie in

on what Karissa had talked about, and told him about all those photo albums.

"Wow," he said.

"We can look at them tonight," I said.

"Is that why you were late last night?" he asked me. "Because you were lookin' at them?"

"Yeah. She kept wanting to show me certain pictures, and then she'd get sidetracked, and start

talking about other ones. I didn't know how to hurry her along without being rude."

"Adam was really pissed about you bein' late again. You're lucky you didn't get

grounded," Guthrie pointed out.

"He said something about it," I admitted. "But then he softened up."

"I wouldn't keep pushin' him, though," Guthrie advised. "His patience won't last

forever."

"I'm going to talk to him and Brian tonight," I said. "And tell them about Karissa. You'll

be there with me, won't you?"

"Yeah."

After a couple of moments, Guthrie said, "It'd be nice, to hear more stories about mom. And

havin' the pictures, that'll be good, too."

I knew then that Guthrie was interested, that he wasn't as indifferent to Karissa's

appearance as he'd tried to portray.

"I'm glad you're gonna tell the family about her showing up, too," he went on. "It didn't feel

right to keep it from them." After a pause, he asked, "What I want to know is, how come she

showed up now? Just out of the blue?"

"She just got divorced. She said she's lonely. And she doesn't have any kids of her own, so

she'd like to be a part of us."

"Still sounds funny to me," Guthrie said with suspicion.

"What if they still don't want her to come around, though?" I worried, ignoring his last comment.

"Well, what did she tell you when you asked her the reason?" Guthrie asked.

"Something about buying me a dress that they didn't want me to have. And how

they wouldn't let her help. I don't know," I said, my voice trailing off as I saw Guthrie

shaking his head.

"So she evaded it again," he said, sounding disgusted.

"She says she didn't like the way they were raising me-" I began.

"It wasn't her say-so how they raised us," Guthrie said, in defense of Adam and Brian.

"Not us, Guth. Me."

Guthrie pulled into the school parking lot and parked, turning to look at me.

"What's that mean?" he asked.

"She said she didn't think I should be around just all the guys growing up. That I should

have a woman to help with me." I let my voice trail off again at the look on Guthrie's face.

He looked puzzled, and I hurried to explain so that his feelings wouldn't be hurt.

"She worried about you, too," I assured him. "And Ford."

"Well, whatever it was that they disagreed on, hopefully they can put it aside," Guthrie

said, and I thought how mature and grownup he sounded.

"I hope so, too," I said fervently, and as Guthrie and I walked into the school together, I remembered

that he hadn't stopped to get my coffee.

7

I struggled to stay awake thru the first two hours, and was thankful when Mrs. Lindsey, who

teaches Home Economics, said that we could make a pot of coffee while we helped her decorate the

bulletin boards. Drinking two cups helped a little, and I was able to manage the rest of the morning

being more wide-awake.

Talk over lunch centered on a party that one of the girls was having on Friday night. I mostly listened while

Chelsea and Miranda talked about it, Miranda being the one that was having it.

When they asked Kristin if she was coming, she shook her head. "I have to work."

"How about you, Harlie?" Miranda asked.

"I doubt it."

"You never go to any of the parties, do you?" she asked.

Miranda is a newer student to the school, only being here about two months, since the Christmas break. I

wasn't that well acquainted with her yet.

I shrugged. "I've been to one or two."

At Miranda's questioning look, I said, "I just don't see the point really. Everybody just seeing

how drunk they can get."

"My party is going to be way cooler than that. If it's warm enough, we're going to have a bonfire

at our lake. My dad's even getting some boats for us. You know, those pedal boats, and a few

canoes," Miranda said.

"Oh," I said, thinking that it did sound like fun.

"You should come," Miranda encouraged me.

"Come where?" Lori asked, as she and Trent walked up to join our table, followed by Guthrie,

who sat down beside Kristin.

Miranda went on talking about her party, and how much fun it was going to be. I watched Guthrie,

but he didn't show any reaction, one way or the other.

When I came out of school that afternoon, I was only halfway across the parking lot when

I saw Karissa's car parked across the street, in the same spot it had been in several days

before.

I walked across the street, and tapped on the window, startling her. She opened the door

and got out. She was wearing a slim gray skirt, and a very expensive looking sweater. And really

tall heels.

"Hello, sweetheart," she greeted me. "I wasn't watching for you. Are you out early today?"

"Just a couple of minutes early."

"Oh. Well, it's so good to see you." She was smiling, and acting, I thought, as if she hadn't seen

me just the night before.

"Did the sweater fit?" she asked.

"I'm sorry, I didn't get a chance to try it on yet," I explained. "It was late when I got home, and

then I had school-"

"That's alright. If you don't like the way it fits, we can return it and get another size. Or another color

if you'd like."

I wasn't used to having someone cater to me like she did. If I was honest, I'd have to admit that

I did sort of enjoy it.

"I like the color fine," I assured her.

"Would you like to go get a bite to eat?" she asked.

"I can't," I said, and her face showed her disappointment.

"I have chores," I tried to explain. "And lots of homework. I didn't get last night's homework finished,

so now I'm behind."

"Oh, sure, I understand. What are your weekend plans?" She leaned back against her car, crossing her

ankles, and lighting a cigarette. She looked so sophisticated. And she really was an attractive woman, I

thought.

"I don't know," I said. "There's always a lot to do on the weekends. I try to help Hannah with the

baby, and I always have homework to catch up on."

"No time for fun?" Karissa asked.

"Taking care of Isaac is fun," I told her.

"I mean dates, and parties. Isn't there any time for those things?"

"Sometimes," I said, and turned to look over as Guthrie was nearly to his truck, walking with

Lonnie.

I called to him. "Guthrie! I'm over here!"

Guthrie looked towards me, and lifted his hand in an acknowledging wave.

I thought, or rather I hoped, that Guthrie would come over to join us, to say hello to Karissa. He

didn't though. He just stood where he was, talking to Lonnie, and some of the other boys. I turned back

towards Karissa, hoping that her feelings weren't hurt by that. She didn't even seem to notice.

"Are you dating any special boy?" she asked me.

"Not really," I said. "Once in awhile I go out with Kenny."

"Kenny?" she asked, with a smile.

"I've known Kenny since the fifth grade. He's nice, but it's nothing serious or anything."

"You've got plenty of time to be serious. This is when you should be having fun. Going out with

lots of boys. As mature as you are, maybe an older one?" she asked.

Without thinking first, I made a huffing sound of dismissal. "That wouldn't work. They wouldn't

like it. Especially Evan and Daniel."

She looked at me questioningly, and I shrugged. "They don't think I should go out with anybody

that's more than a year older than I am."

"I see." She tossed her cigarette to the ground, stepping on it with the toe of her high heel shoe. "How is Evan? You

haven't said much about him to me."

"Evan's good," I said. "He's working on breaking some horses for a rancher over by Angels Camp. He was

doing the rodeo circuit last year, but he broke his collarbone, so he's been taking a little bit of a break."

Karissa looked amused. "You're very enthusiastic about your brothers. You must get along very well

with Evan."

"We do now," I said, and then thought of the rotten apple tossing incident. "But I could tell you

some stories about when we didn't-wow!"

Karissa lost her amused look. "I'd like to hear those stories, Harlie. All of them. Every single

story about you, happy or sad."

For a moment I felt awkward. She seemed so sad again all of a sudden.

"I can tell you lots of stories," I assured her. I was thinking how nice it would be if she could

come to dinner on a Sunday afternoon at home sometime. Well, it would be nice as long as

she didn't insult any of the guys, and as long as they were polite and welcoming to her.

The sound of a horn honking had me looking towards Guthrie's truck. He motioned me

to come.

"I've got to be going," I said.

She nodded, and I felt compelled to be honest with her. "I'm going to talk to Adam and Brian

tonight."

"About me?" she asked, looking slightly alarmed.

"Well, yes. Adam can tell there's been something on my mind lately, and I don't want to keep

on, with them not knowing. It's too much like lying to them."

When she didn't say anything, I asked, "You understand, don't you?"

"I do understand. I'm just worried about what they might say."

"Adam's one of the fairest people that I know. He'll be reasonable," I said.

"You're very sure of that," Karissa said, her tone evident that she wasn't sure at all.

"I am sure. I believe in them," I said, stalwartly.

"Perhaps just a little while longer?" she asked then. "Before you break it to them about

me approaching you?"

I couldn't believe that she was still asking me that, when I'd just gotten finished explaining to

her why I needed to tell them.

"I can't," I said.

"Alright," she said, sounding resigned. "I was hoping we could go shopping on Saturday. And, I

had thought about taking you by the house where Kate and I grew up."

That caught my interest. "The house in Marklesville?" I asked.

At her nod, I said, "I'd like to see it."

"It's for sale. The real estate company that I used to work for has the contract on it, so we could even go inside and look around."

"Wow, that would be great," I said.

"How about going on Saturday, then?" she asked, looking hopeful.

"Maybe," I said, thinking that if I talked to Adam and Brian tonight about everything, maybe, possibly,

they might agree to me going with Karissa for the day on Saturday. To see the house where Mom grew up. Maybe

Guthrie would go, too. They'd probably be more inclined to agree if Guthrie was with me.

"That would be wonderful," Karissa said. "And we can go to lunch afterwards."

I was thinking of my now-usual chore of going to get the feed on Saturday mornings.

"It might be the afternoon before I can go," I said. "I usually go pick up all the feed on Saturday mornings."

"That's fine."

I hesitated, and then added, honestly, "I'll have to ask first, if I can go."

Before Karissa could reply, Guthrie walked across the street and up beside us.

"Hello, Guthrie," Karissa greeted him.

"Hi."

"How are you today?" Karissa asked him, but I thought she sounded a bit forced.

"Fine, thanks. How are you?" Guthrie asked.

"I'm fine, as well."

"That's good." Guthrie looked a little uncomfortable. "Well, we need to get goin'," he said, in a

general way, but he looked at me when he said it.

We said our goodbyes, and since Karissa's last comment was how she was looking forward

to Saturday, as soon as we were alone Guthrie jumped right on that.

"What's Saturday?" he demanded, starting his truck, and moving out onto the road in front

of the high school.

"She wants to show me the house where Mom grew up."

"All that way?" Guthrie asked, sounding dubious.

"It's only a couple of hours," I defended.

"You can't just take off and go two hours away without askin' Adam," Guthrie said.

"I went to Modesto last night to eat with her," I said, and was rewarded for my honesty

by a dark scowl from Guthrie.

"You shouldn't have done that," he said.

"Why?" I asked, honestly perplexed.

"Because. For one thing, you don't know her all that well. And-"

"So you think she's some kind of a kidnapper or something?" I interrupted him to scoff. "No kidnapper would get a cent out

of our family-"

"Listen up," Guthrie told me, and then added, "Listen!" more vehemently

to me as I opened my mouth to say something.

"I know she's our aunt, and everything," Guthrie went on, "but she's still almost like a stranger,

really, if you think about it. You don't know what kind of a person she is."

"She's mama's sister!" I couldn't help protesting.

"That doesn't mean anything," he said firmly.

"You're crazy! It means EVERYTHING!" I said, raising my voice.

"Shut up!" Guthrie said, raising his voice, too, and I was so surprised that I did shut up.

"And for another thing," Guthrie went on, "you shouldn't have gone to Modesto or anywhere

with her when Adam and Brian and everybody don't even know anything about her being around."

I crossed my arms and stared straight ahead. I was peeved at Guthrie. Never mind that

what he said was probably right. I was still peeved. And I was determined to stay quiet the

rest of the ride home.

"I thought you were just meetin' up with her before your class last night," he said. "If I'd

known you were gonna go to Modesto, well, I wouldn't have let you go."

I twisted in the seat to glare at Guthrie.

"LET me?!" I yelled. "What do you mean, you wouldn't have let me?!"

7


	8. A rancher's emergency

Guthrie clamped his jaw shut and was silent.

"You aren't in charge of me," I informed him haughtily. "You can't tell me what to do!"

When Guthrie was still annoyingly silent, I reached across the seat and smacked

his shoulder. Hard.

"Do you hear me, Guthrie James McFadden?" I yelled.

"I hear you," Guthrie said, and calmly began unwrapping a stick of Juicy Fruit from his

shirt pocket.

"I don't need your permission to do anything!" I continued to rant.

"Okay," he said quietly.

"Okay, what?!" I demanded.

"Okay. You don't need my permission to do anything."

I scrutinized him, trying to figure out if he was serious, or if he was just humoring me.

"No, I don't," I said. And, for good measure, I reached over to flick him on the neck with my thumb and

index finger.

"If you wanna be mad, it's alright," Guthrie said, and then, in a tone that was quiet,

but with enough warning to make me take notice, "But if you keep whompin' on me while

I'm tryin' to drive, I'm gonna whomp you back."

I had no doubt in my mind that he meant what he said. And I had no desire to have our

disagreement progress to that. He'd plainly reached the limit of what he was willing to

take from me.

So I reined myself in. But I still didn't talk to him the rest of the way home.

7

Once at home, we were met with chaos. Everybody was standing in front of the

barn, huddled in a mass. Even Hannah was there.

As Guthrie and I got out, he asked, to everybody in general, "What's goin' on?"

"We've got another cow down," Crane answered.

From their conversation, I gleaned the information that they were preparing to try

to pull the calf from the cow. Now for anybody that wasn't raised on a ranch or farm, this

sort of procedure is pretty graphic, and seems almost cruel. But it's sometimes the only way

to save a cow who's been laboring for too long, and to try save the calf, too. It's used as a last

resort, after having tried other options without success.

"I'll go change my clothes and be back out to help," Guthrie said, and sprinted towards the house.

"Harlie and I will do the rest of the chores," Hannah was saying, and then turned to me. "Go change your

clothes, too, hon."

"Where's Isaac?" I asked her.

"He was still asleep when I came out. Check real quickly on him while you're inside, will you?"

I said that I would, and went to change my clothes, grabbing a couple of the photo albums

and sweater from the seat of my truck. I shoved the albums in a drawer, and left the sweater on my bed,

and after I changed, I went down the back stairs to the kitchen. I saw that supper preparations had been obviously interrupted by

the emergency with the cow. There was pieces of cubed ham on the cutting board on the table,

and pans on the stove with the steam still rising from them where they'd been shut off.

When I got back outside, Hannah, who was gathering the eggs, waved me over to the chicken pen.

"Isaac's still sleeping," I told her.

"Good. After you take care of the goats, can you feed the range cubes?" she asked. "I think the guys are going to be

tied up for quite awhile."

I said that I would, and so, after I'd fed and watered Elwood P. Dowd and his two wives, I went to start the Jeep.

While I was struggling to lift a half-full bag of range cubes into the back, I was startled when Guthrie appeared

behind me, reached around, and hoisted the bag in, seemingly effortlessly.

He didn't say anything. He just did it, and then turned to go towards the barn.

"Thanks," I said, to his back.

"Welcome," he returned, just as shortly, as he kept on walking.

Warrior jumped into the Jeep's passenger seat, and sat up straight and tall the entire time I

drove thru the pasture, feeding the range cubes to the cattle. Since the bag was pretty heavy at

my first stop, I climbed into the back of the Jeep, and tossed a bunch of the cubes out onto the ground.

Thus accomplishing two things: making the sack light enough that I could lift it; and also standing up

high enough so that I wasn't trampled by eager cattle wanting to satisfy their sweet tooth.

I started talking to Warrior as I drove thru the pasture, talking about Karissa, and what a mess

it all was. Warrior thumped his tail in response, and I gave his head a rub.

"You're a good listener, boy," I told him.

When I was done, and drove back to the gate near the barn, I got out, opened the gate, and then

drove thru. As I hopped out yet again so I could close the gate, I stopped long enough to pet Clarence,

who, minus his blue blanket, had wandered over to greet me.

It was one moment, one miniscule second. That's all.

"Harlie!" I heard Brian roar. "Shut the damn gate!"

Some of the cows, probably thinking that I still had range cubes, were nearly to the open gate. If they got thru, holy

smokes!

I jumped up so fast from my kneeling position that poor, fat Clarence lost his balance, and nearly toppled over.

I raced for the gate. It was only about twenty feet or so, but a couple of the cows were very nearly thru by

the time I grabbed it and pulled hard. I had to yank with all my strength, and, though I got it closed nearly on

the nose of one of the cows, the swinging of the gate caught me on the chin, causing quick tears to spring up. Steel pipe

in the face is not fun.

"Bat shit!" I yelled, just as Brian got there to help, pushing at the most persistent cow, still trying to work her

head into the opening between the gate and the post.

"Get back!" he told the cow, pushing on her head. He finished then by reattaching the chain to the post, and I

sighed in relief that the cattle hadn't escaped into the yard.

I rubbed at my sore chin, and looked up at Brian, waiting for him to start hollering.

He didn't. Not right then. He just stood there, looking at me, his eyebrow raised.

"Sorry," I said.

"We don't need loose cattle on top of everything else," he said.

"I know. It was just a second. That's all."

"That's all a cow needs. A second. You know that."

I did know that. I sighed, taking my hand from my chin. There was blood on it.

Brian tilted his head to survey it. "Gate got ya, huh?" he asked.

When I nodded, he said, "Go in and get some ice on it. It looks like it's startin' to swell."

"So will there be hollering and a lecture about gates later?" I asked him.

"Most likely."

"A gate safety lecture! Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday at the same time!" I muttered,

putting my hand back up to my chin again.

"Go on," Brian told me, with a nod towards the house.

As I headed to the house, I heard Brian say to my retreating back, "It'd be a shame if that

injury caused your jaw to swell shut. We'd miss all that sparkling wit if you weren't able to

talk."

"Johnny Carson's been calling," I called back, without turning around.

Once inside, I headed to the kitchen. Hannah was back at work with supper preparations,

Isaac cradled in one arm.

She looked up at me, her eyes widening at the sight of my chin. "What in the world happened?" she asked.

She started getting an ice pack ready even before I'd finished explaining things to her.

"Wash it off first," she told me, and when I'd done that, I put some pressure on to stop the

bleeding.

"I don't think it's deep enough for stitches," Hannah said.

"Sit down here, and hold the ice on it," she said. I sat in one of the kitchen chairs, holding the

ice to my chin, and Hannah sat down next to me.

"Okay. Then I'll go back out and try to help," I said.

After I'd held the ice on for a few minutes, Hannah leaned forward in her chair, and moved my hand away

from my chin.

"Let me see it now," she said. "It's pretty swollen. Keep icing it a little longer."

As we sat there, me holding the ice on, and Hannah looking down at the sleeping Isaac in her

arms, she said quietly, "Your clean laundry is on your bed."

"Okay. Thanks."

"I saw the sweater," she said then, looking at me questioningly, and I felt my stomach tighten.

"Oh," I said lamely, meeting her eyes.

"It's beautiful."

"Yeah," I said, thinking hard about an explanation. It was impossible to explain away an

expensive cashmere sweater. None of the guys would have even paid a bit of attention if they'd seen it.

Guys don't notice anything like that.

But Hannah was a woman. Observant. And aware of the quality and price of women's clothing. She

would know very well that such a sweater wouldn't be available for purchase in any of the stores in Murphys. Or Angels Camp.

And she'd know that I hadn't been to the mall lately. And even if I had, she'd be aware that I would be

most unlikely to buy a sweater that cost what this one obviously had.

But she still asked. "Did you buy it?"

I lowered the ice from my chin. "No."

She sat and waited. Quiet.

"It was a present from someone," I offered reluctantly.

"Oh."

She didn't push. But I knew she was far from satisfied with my answer. She searched my face, her blue eyes

going from curious to concerned.

"From a boy?" she asked. "If it is, that's a very expensive gift to accept from a boy, Harlie."

"It's not from a boy."

Hannah regarded me seriously for a long moment.

"It's a very expensive gift from anyone," she said.

"I know." I sighed. "I can't really explain right now, Hannah."

"Oh." Her look was still questioning, and I didn't miss the flash of disappointment in her face, either.

"It's not that I don't want to tell you," I tried to assure her. "It's just part of a bigger story, and I need

to tell Adam and Brian that part first."

"Alright."

"Are you mad?" I asked.

"Of course not, silly goose." She reached out and ran her fingers gently over my chin. "As long as

you're going to talk to them soon." I nodded, and she said, "After your shower tonight, we'll put some salve on your face."

"Okay." I handed her the ice pack, and headed back outside, going to the barn.

All of the guys were covered in blood and mucus. Crane was trying again to manually

turn the calf inside of the cow. They'd apparently been working at it all this time. Like I said, pulling

a calf is the last resort. It often results in the calf being torn apart, but a rancher's outlook is that

if the cow's life can be saved, that's reason enough to do it. Brian and Evan were helping to hold

the cow still. Or as still as possible, considering what was being done to her.

"I can help hold her," I said, dropping to my knees beside Brian in the hay.

After a few minutes, though, the cow started thrashing around a lot more, and Brian told me to

move out of the way. "No more injuries for you today," he said.

So I stood back a little, watching, and feeling pity for the cow.

"I've got hold of a leg," Crane was saying. After a few more attempts by Crane of trying to pull the

calf out, Adam gave Crane a light slap on the back.

"You rest. Let me try," he said, and Crane moved over, looking obviously exhausted. Finally, after

another hour between Adam and Evan both working, they were able to turn the calf, and the cow delivered.

After all that, though, the calf was born dead. I felt sad, looking at the little spotted face.

As they got ready to load the dead calf on the front loader of the tractor so that it could be buried, Adam

turned to Guthrie and told him to go in and get a shower.

"Get cleaned up and get some supper. You've got homework too, don't you?"

"Yeah. Some," Guthrie said.

"Go on then," Adam said, patting Guthrie on the shoulder. He turned to me.

"You go on along too," he told me. It was then that he noticed my chin. In the dimmer light

of the barn, he peered a little closer at me.

"What happened?" he asked.

"She had a disagreement with a gate," Brian spoke up.

"Yeah? It looks like the gate won, huh?" Adam said,

"I guess it did," I said.

I took a quick bath in Hannah's bathroom, and Guthrie and I met up in the hallway, both of us

dressed in sweatpants and t-shirts.

"Hi," I said.

"Hey."

We surveyed each other silently for a moment.

"You mad at me?" I asked him.

"No. You mad at me?"

"No."

Guthrie bumped me with his shoulder. "Let's eat," he said, and we got downstairs just as

Evan was heading up.

"You two better have left some hot water for me," he told us.

Evan might have had hot water, but by the time Crane was finished with his shower, and had joined Guthrie and Hannah and

Evan and I in the kitchen, we could all hear Brian howling upstairs.

"No more hot water," Crane said, and everybody laughed.

7

After I'd eaten, I curled up on the couch, and worked to catch up on my homework.

Hannah came downstairs after putting Isaac to bed.

"You promised to go to bed early," she reminded me.

"I am tired," I admitted, closing my science book and standing up.

Adam, coming thru the living room after being the last one to get a shower, stopped to

listen to our conversation.

"We were going to talk tonight, weren't we?" he said.

I looked up at him, and it was obvious he was exhausted.

"It's okay," I told him.

"You sure?" he asked.

"I'm sure."

"Alright. We'll try tomorrow night. I'm sorry, sugar."

"You don't have to be," I said, and he gave me a hug.

7

By the time Guthrie and I got home from school the next afternoon, the cow had died, despite

the shots of penicillin and care that my brothers had given her.

It was quiet and subdued at the supper table. It had not been a good week for the McFaddens as

cattle ranchers. The loss of a cow and two calves was a big hit financially.

"What do you two have planned for the weekend?" Hannah asked Guthrie and I.

"Kristin has to work almost all weekend," Guthrie said, looking glum.

"I miss seeing her," Hannah said. "We need to try to get her over soon for a visit."

When Guthrie only nodded, and still looked glum, Hannah added, "At least she has a good job, and

a chance to make some money. I'm sure it's helping her and her mother out." She turned to me. "What about you, sweetie? Any plans?"

I thought of Karissa and how she wanted to spend Saturday afternoon and evening with me.

"Nothing definite," I said vaguely.

"We talked about you having some of your friends over. Did you want to do that? We can

make some snacks," Hannah offered.

"Maybe I'll wait until some time when Kristin came come, too," I said, and Hannah nodded.

"Good supper, Sis," Adam said, smiling at Clare.

"I second that," Crane said.

"Yeah, my darlin' sure can cook, can't she?" Brian said, with pride.

"Thanks, guys," Clare said, looking a little embarrassed, but smiling, obviously pleased by their praise.

"Six months ago, who would have believed it?" Evan said, grinning at her teasingly across the

table.

"Smack him for me, will you, Crane?" Clare said, and Crane obligingly gave Evan a punch to

the shoulder.

I was glad everybody was joking around, and lightening up a little bit.

When the phone started ringing, Evan got up to go answer it. He came back to the table, sinking

into his chair and reaching for the pie in the center of the table.

"It's for you, Har," he said. "Some lady."

Instantly, I felt a prickle go up my back.

"You got a teacher calling you at home, peanut?" Crane asked, and everybody

looked at me.

"It's probably just Lori or one of the other girls," I said, trying to distract everyone.

"It wasn't Lori. Or any other teenage girl. Sounds like an older lady," Evan said carelessly,

cutting into the pie, and scooping out a really big piece.

"You don't know what you're talking about," I told Evan, trying to sound casual, and I got up, going

into the living room.

"Hello?"

"Hi, sweetheart."

"Hi," I answered, not a bit surprised that it was Karissa.

"I hope it's alright that I called you."

I told her that it was alright, even though I knew I was going to get grilled when I went back

to the supper table.

"Have you talked to Adam and Brian yet? I'm just so anxious about it-"

"No. I haven't had the chance. We've had some animal emergencies, and well, I just haven't had the

chance yet,"

"I see."

There was momentary silence on her part then, and I said, trying to sound reassuring, "I know it's

going to work out, though."

"I hope so. Were you going to be able to go to Marklesville to look at the house like we talked about?"

I thought ahead, and then added, without really considering it, "I'm not sure. Can I call

you in the morning to let you know?"

"Alright, that's fine," she said, and she sounded so darn happy and appreciative that I felt

myself having feelings of warmness towards her. She really did care about me. I could tell.

"Okay." I hesitated, and then added, "Bye, Aunt Karissa."

I heard her quick intake of breath, and then heard the pleased tone to her voice.

"Goodbye, sweetheart!"

7

I was vastly relieved when I went back to the table, and the focus of the conversation had

turned to weekend plans around the ranch. It took the heat off of me, so to speak, and no one

bothered to ask who had been on the telephone.

As everyone started finishing up, pushing in chairs, and carrying dishes to the sink, Guthrie

volunteered that he was thinking about going into town to Butch's to play some pool with Kenny and Trent.

"You can come if you want," he told me. "Maybe Lori will come, too."

So after Guthrie and I had done the dishes, we wandered into the living room, and then out

to the porch, where Adam and Hannah, and Brian and Clare were all sitting.

"Okay if we go into Butch's for awhile?" Guthrie asked, in a general way.

"It's alright with me," Adam said.

"I'll go change my clothes," I said, and went upstairs. After I'd put on a clean pair of jeans, I stood there

in the middle of my room, thinking. I slipped the new cashmere sweater on, and then went down the

hall to Hannah and Adam's bedroom, looking at myself in the full length mirror. The sweater fit

perfectly. Almost as if it had been made just for me. Tight. But yet not too tight.

I went back to my bedroom, rooting thru my closet for my dressy cowboy boots. The whole time I

was pulling them on I was talking to myself, telling myself there was nothing wrong with wearing the

sweater even though I hadn't told Adam and Brian about Karissa yet.

After all, she'd given it to me because she wanted to, right? And I was going to tell them. I was.

Tomorrow for sure. Just the same, I pulled a jacket on over the sweater, and zipped it up. No point

in Hannah seeing me wear it, when she knew I hadn't told the guys 'the bigger story' that I'd mentioned to her.

I went back out onto the porch, and Hannah said, "Guthrie said to tell you he'll be ready to go after

he changes his shirt."

"Okay."

"Want me to French braid your hair?" Clare offered.

"Yeah. Want me to go get my brush?" I asked.

"No, I can finger comb it," she said, and gestured to the spot in front of her feet. "Sit down here."

So I sat down in front of her, and she loosened my braid, and began to comb her fingers thru

my curls.

While we were sitting there, Evan came out, announcing he was going to pick Nancy up, and

saying goodbye. After he'd roared away down the driveway, the talk turned to Nancy.

"I really think he's serious about Nancy," Hannah said.

"I think so, too," Adam agreed.

"She seems like a real nice girl," Brian volunteered.

"He is pretty young, though," Hannah said.

"He's old enough to know his own mind," Brian said.

"Yeah," Adam said. He raised Hannah's hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. "Besides, he's

not that much younger than you were, when I swept you off your feet."

"True," Hannah said, and everybody laughed.

I was laughing, too, and thinking again that I wouldn't mind a bit having Nancy join our

family. So I was a little startled by the quick change in subject, and the light nudge of Brian's

boot against my hip.

"So we gonna have that talk soon?" he asked me.

"Yeah, that's right," Adam said, in remembrance.

"Maybe tomorrow?" I said.

"Why not now?" Brian demanded, and I turned my head from where Clare was braiding my hair, to

look at both him and Adam.

"Because," I said. "I mean, I'm going with Guthrie in a minute. And it's gonna take a while to talk

about."

"Hmm," Brian said.

"Well, on the weekend sometime then," Adam told me. "Definitely before school on Monday."

"Okay," I said, and when Clare tapped my head lightly, I turned back to face the barn, so she

could finish my hair.

7


	9. Tipsy canoe

When Guthrie and I got to Butch's, it was already busy and hopping with lots of teenagers.

We worked our way thru the crowd, and I asked Guthrie, "Are you sure Kenny and Trent are

going to be here?"

"They said they might be. Probably be," Guthrie answered, in a careless fashion, and I thought

how different guys were than girls in that way. Girls, at least the ones I knew, liked to know what

they were doing on a weekend, exactly what they were doing. And who they were going to meet up with.

"Well, what about Lori?" I asked.

"You can call her," Guthrie said, pointing to the pay phone on the wall.

After we'd located Kenny and Trent and Lonnie, too, they all started a game of pool, and I went to

call Lori. When she got there, she and I watched the guys play for awhile, and I drank

two Cokes, even though I knew that I shouldn't.

Lori and I wandered outside.

"What do you want to do?" she asked me. "Sit around here?"

I shrugged. "What do you want to do?"

"We could drive around," she suggested. "Or we could go to that party that Miranda's having."

I gave her an eyes widened look. "Seriously?"

"Sure. Why not?"

"I don't think Guthrie will go for it."

"We'll just go over and stay an hour or so, and then come back to meet up with Trent and Guthrie," she

said. "We don't have to say anything about where we're going. That way Guthrie won't throw a fit. Or Trent either.

He doesn't like Miranda very much."

"Okay," I said, and we went inside, where I cornered Guthrie and told him that Lori and I were

going to drive around awhile, and maybe go to a friend's house.

"When are you gonna be back?" Guthrie asked.

"I don't know. A couple of hours. You'll still be shooting pool anyway, won't you?"

"Probably."

"Okay. Bye." As I turned to walk away, Guthrie caught at my arm.

"Okay. But, hey. Don't be late gettin' back. And don't do anything dumb."

I shook his hand off like a pesky fly. "Honestly, Guthrie, you're getting to where you sound

like you're about eighty years old."

"Yeah, yeah," he said. "Whatever. I'm serious."

"Bye, Guthrie," I said, in a sing-song voice.

"Yeah. Bye, Guthrie," Lori joined in. "And bye, Trennnt!"

Giggling, we went outside to where Lori had parked her mother's car. We drove past the Dari

Kurl, and then on towards Miranda's house.

As we were driving along, I had a sudden guilty feeling about fibbing to Guthrie about where

I was going. He wouldn't have been happy by any means, if I'd told him, but he would have

only grumbled at me, and then likely he and the other guys would have gone with us.

Well, probably he would have. At least there was a 50-50 chance that he would have. Well, maybe

not 50-50. Maybe 70-30.

Another unpleasant and unwelcome thought occurred to me.

What was it that Evan had told me? No going to parties without Guthrie? Yeah, no going to parties

without Guthrie.

Hmm. I bit my lip a little, and told myself there was nothing to worry about. I'd tell Guthrie the

truth later, and Evan didn't have to know.

There was a huge crowd at Miranda's house, which is about five miles west of Murphys. We hadn't been

there very long at all when we found out that it wasn't only Miranda's party, but her older brother's party, too.

Her brother was at least Ford's age, and so, since they hadn't lived here very long, I didn't really know

him. But, since he had obviously invited people, too, there were a lot of older people there.

There were people everywhere. On the front porch. In the yard. In the barn. Roaming across the pasture

towards where lights were shining onto a lake.

After we'd walked around and talked to a lot of the kids from school, we both went to get a drink

from one of the coolers. I'd already made up my mind that I wasn't going to be dumb and drink anything

alcoholic. So I sipped on a can of Sprite. Lori, too, opted for a soda instead of beer. We walked down to

the lake with some of the other girls from our class at school, Chelsea and Tara.

The four of us got in a canoe, and started to drift out into the center of the lake. There were other

canoes and rowboats around us, and with the lights they had set up, it was really kind of cool. I was

having fun, even when Chelsea pulled a can of beer from each of her jacket pockets.

I'd been able to tell that she had been drinking already for awhile, but I hadn't been too worried, since

I didn't plan on drinking myself.

She held out a can of beer to me. "Want one, Harlie?" she asked.

"No, thanks."

"How come?" she asked, peering at me in the darkness.

"I just don't want any."

"Okay," she said with a giggle. "More for me."

We drifted around for awhile, talking, and I was enjoying myself. It was kind of relaxing, drifting in

the water at night like that. A thought occurred to me that it would be fun if we had a lake at home this large, and

then we could do this, too. Not to mention the fishing that Guthrie and I could do.

I was kind of leaning back a little, letting my hand trail thru the water. None of us was paddling

at that time. Somebody in one of the other boats had started to sing, and other people were joining in.

It was going too well. I mean, this is me we're talking about, after all. Something had to happen to

ruin it, right?

This certain something happened to be when Tara, who'd also been drinking, started to stand up

in the canoe.

Lori and I both yelled at her to sit down, and Chelsea, who was laughing, grabbed at Tara. The

canoe rocked, and I had visions of all of us being dumped into that dark, freezing water. I can swim

alright, and all, but I still panicked at the thought of going down into that water.

Tara sat back down, and the canoe stayed upright. I breathed a sigh of relief, just before

Chelsea, in a fit of giggling, emptied the entire contents of her second can of beer on the shoulder

of my jacket, and the front of me.

I hollered at her and she said she was sorry, but was still laughing while she said it.

"You okay?" Lori asked me.

"Yeah. I'm going to smell like beer now, though."

"It's probably been almost two hours since we got here," she said. "You want to head

back to town?"

"Yeah, we'd better," I agreed. We paddled back to the edge of the lake, and after telling Tara to get

out first, Lori was holding the canoe steady so I could get out, when Chelsea, in another fit of laughter,

purposely stood up and started rocking the canoe back and forth.

Lori lunged forward to prevent the canoe from tipping over, and in the process got her boots wet.

As far as I was concerned, despite Lori's efforts, Chelsea and I both fell into the water. While it was only a couple

of feet deep, it still managed to give me wet jeans up past my knees and soak my good boots.

I was good and mad, and I went with Lori towards her mother's car, without even saying goodbye

to Chelsea at all.

"Good grief," I said, with a huge sigh of disgust as Lori and I settled ourselves into the car.

"Whew," Lori said. "I hate to say it, but you really do smell like beer."

"I have to figure something out," I said. "If Guthrie smells it, he's going to get mad."

"Tell him somebody spilled it on you. He'll believe you, won't he?" Lori asked.

"He probably would," I agreed. "But then he'd yell at me for going out there without telling him and all

of that."

Lori turned up the heat full force since both of us were shivering.

"We could go to my house and get some dry socks and stuff," she said. "But my mom will

start asking lots of questions."

"It's okay," I said. "I'll be alright." I shrugged out of my jacket, tucking it between my feet on the floor

of the car, so I didn't have to smell the beer on it.

"My feet are freezing," she said, as we drove slowly back towards Murphys.

"Mine are too."

As we came back into Murphys, and down the street in front of Butch's Place, it seemed like there

were even more cars and trucks parked outside than before.

She parked and shut off the motor, and we sat there for a minute.

"If I don't wear my jacket in, maybe the smell of beer won't be so noticeable," I said hopefully.

I could tell she didn't really want to go inside, and I didn't blame her. She could slip into her house, and

change her wet clothes, and everything would be fine. She didn't have to go inside to face anybody.

"It's okay," I told her. "Go on home if you want."

"Are you sure?" she asked, feeling obviously guilty.

"I'm sure. Go on. I'll think of something to cover for you if Trent asks."

"Thanks, Harlie," she said gratefully.

"It's okay. I owe you for the other night, anyway, when you let me come over before

I met up with Karissa."

We said goodbye, and I watched as she backed out, and drove down the street towards her house.

I took my beer-coated jacket and tossed it into the back of Guthrie's truck.

I tried to sniff my sweater to see if it smelled like beer, too, but I didn't really think that I

smelled any on it. I thought that beer was probably very bad for cashmere.

I shivered. It was cold standing out here in the night air. I suddenly wished that I was at home, drinking

hot chocolate, sitting next to Crane while he read out loud from the latest historical novel he was reading.

I was standing so still, so deep in my thoughts, that I jumped a little, startled, when

somebody behind me said, "Hey, Harlie."

I turned quickly to see Eddie standing there. He had his hands jammed into his pockets, and the

collar of his jacket turned up against the wind. He gave me a smile.

"Hi."

"What are you up to?" he asked.

"Nothing much," I said. "What are you doing?"

"Just been shootin' some pool. I'm getting ready to head back in."

"That's good," I said, and wrapped my arms around myself, rubbing my arms.

Eddie kind of looked me over, and I knew he was likely wondering about the fact that I was obviously

cold, but not wearing a jacket, and also, if he'd looked close enough, that my jeans were soaked

from the knee down.

"You headin' in, too?" he asked, sort of casually.

"Yeah. I need to hunt Guthrie up."

"I saw him in there earlier." He pulled the door to Butch's open, and waited for me to pass in front of him. "I

need to try to redeem myself. Evan's been kicking my butt at pool tonight."

I stopped walking so fast that Eddie nearly walked into me.

"Evan's here?" I asked.

"Yeah. So is Ford. Sure is good to see that rascal. I haven't had a chance to shoot pool with him

in a long time-"

"Ford's here, too?" I asked, interrupting Eddie.

"Yeah," Eddie said again, giving me a puzzled look. I knew that I sounded panicked, and I also knew

that he was wondering what was wrong with me. I hadn't known that Ford was coming home this weekend! And

I didn't really want to face anybody but Guthrie. Most especially not Evan.

"I think I'll sit out here for awhile," I said.

"Yeah?" he said, wrinkling his forehead at me. "How come? Don't you want to see Ford?"

I looked up into Eddie's handsome face. He had to know that I would be crazy eager to see Ford, even

without knowing that it had been almost a month since Ford had been home for a visit.

"I do want to see him," I said quietly.

Eddie nodded. And waited.

I didn't explain anything more. I just said, "I'll be inside in a second."

"Alright. You want me to give Ford a heads up? Let him know you're out here?" he asked.

I thought for a moment. That would be okay. As long as Ford kept my wet and beer-smelling appearance

to himself. And didn't share it with Evan.

"Yeah. That would be good," I said. I gave him a small smile. "Thanks, Eddie."

"No problem." And then, for just the merest of seconds, he touched my hair, letting one of my

curls run thru his fingers.

"See you around," he said, letting his hand drop.

"See you," I said, my heart pounding at his nearness, and at the way he'd touched my hair. I tucked the moment

away in my mind to mull over later.

I watched him walk away, and then went to get into Guthrie's truck, peering under the seats with a flashlight

to see if he'd left his keys so I could warm up. But I couldn't find them, so he must have them in his pocket.

I was searching under the seats for a sweatshirt, so I didn't see Ford coming up, until

the truck door opened, and he was there. Grinning at me under the street lights.

"Hey, you," he said.

"Hi, Ford!"

I sat, and he stood, until he spoke up, "What does a guy have to do to get a hug around here?"

"Say pretty please," I joked.

"Come here, you brat," he told me, and pulled me down and to him, giving me a rib-crushing

hug.

I squeezed him back, and then leaned back a little, to look at him, forgetting for a moment how

cold and wet that I was.

"I didn't know you were coming home tonight. It'd be nice if you'd tell a person," I scolded him, teasingly.

"It was a last minute decision. I got lonesome for everybody."

"I'm glad to see you." I sat back down on the edge of the truck seat. "You look good."

"You look good, too. I brought Captain Jack home."

"Oh, that's good! I can't wait to see him."

"Yeah." He looked me over. "Where have you been? Guthrie said you went to a friend's house

or somethin'."

"Yeah. Sort of."

"Why are you sittin' out here? You hiding from somebody?"

"Not exactly."

"Well, come inside. I've got a game of pool to finish."

"I'm kind of tired. I think I'll just wait out here until Guthrie's ready to go home."

Ford cocked his head a little and gave me a puzzled look. "What's wrong with you, fruit loop?"

"Nothing. Really, Ford, I'm fine out here."

"Well, where's your jacket?" he asked.

"Oh, it's in here somewhere," I said vaguely.

"Hmm," he said, and I gave his shoulder a pat.

"Go on back inside, and finish your pool game. Have fun," I told him.

"You look like you're really cold," he said then.

"A little. I'm okay."

Ford looked at me for another moment or so, and then he said, "I'm about ready to head on home. You want

to go with me? That way Guthrie can stick around for a while if he wants to."

I tried not to look too eager, and give myself away. "That would be great. If you're sure, I mean-"

"Sure. I was losing anyway. Let me go in and tell Evan and Guthrie, and get some keys," Ford said.

"Okay," I said, thinking of how good it was going to feel to get warmed up. I got out and retrieved my jacket

from the back of Guthrie's truck bed. I put it on, thinking that I was going to tell Ford about everything anyway, so

it wouldn't matter if he smelled the beer.

It was while I was pulling my jacket on that I saw Ford coming back out, and then, right behind him, was Evan.

"Bat shit!" I cursed.

"Come on," Ford said, giving me a push towards Evan's truck.

"I thought it was going to be just you and me," I hissed at Ford. "I wanted to talk to you!"

"We can still talk, can't we?" Ford asked, sounding unconcerned.

Evan had gotten into the driver's seat, and started up his truck. Ford, behind me, opened the

passenger side door, and then gave me another push to make me get in.

I pulled off my jacket, yet again, really fast, and tossed it into the back of Evan's truck, right before I climbed in.

"What are you doing?" Ford asked me, right at the same time that Evan said,

"You might want to leave that on until it gets warmed up in here."

I didn't answer, I just settled myself in the middle part of the seat, and Ford got in beside me,

As Evan backed out, and they started talking to each other, I wrapped my arms around myself, trying

to keep my teeth from chattering. My toes were so cold they were starting to ache.

"Where'd you go?" Evan asked me.

"Huh?" I asked, knowing exactly what he meant, but not wanting to get into it.

"Guthrie said you left with Lori to go somewhere else."

"We just went to drive around for awhile," I said, trying to sound casual. "And talk to some people."

Evan nodded, like everything was okay with what I said.

They started talking again. Ford was telling a funny story about Captain Jack. I was only half-listening,

though. I wondered if the boys would notice if I were to reach out and turn one of the vents so that the

heat was blowing directly onto my soaked knees and my feet.

I couldn't help shivering again. I just couldn't help it. I reached out to adjust the vent directly in front of me.

It felt so good blowing on my legs.

"Aren't you startin' to get warmed up by now?" Ford asked me.

"A little," I said.

"Why'd you take your jacket off?" he asked then.

"It got wet," I said, leaning forward a little to get closer to the blowing hot air. In doing so, my leg brushed against

his, and he reached out to touch my knee. Before I could jerk away or do anything else, he let his hand go on down the

calf of my leg.

"You're soaking wet," he said, as if telling me something that I didn't already know. "What happened?"

7


	10. Busted

I captured Ford's hand in mine, and squeezed it hard, in warning. Really hard.

"I'll tell you later," I said, squeezing his hand again, in hopes of him getting the point. The point being that I wanted him to

keep quiet.

"Ow. Okay," Ford said, shaking his hand loose from my grip. "You big bully," he added, teasingly.

Evan started talking to Ford then about the cattle that we'd lost that week. I felt that I was out of the questioning 'hot spot'

for the time being, so I looped my arm thru Ford's and, pressed against his side, tried to use him to get warm.

7777777

When we got home, it didn't look as though there were many lights on inside the house, and I felt hopeful. Maybe everybody

would be in bed. I thought it must be almost eleven.

I wanted to get up the stairs and out of my wet jeans, and into something dry, and warm. Very warm. Something

flannel would be heavenly, I thought.

I was asking Ford, as we went up the front steps, where he'd put Captain Jack.

"He's in my room," Ford said.

"Oh, fantastic," Evan grumbled. "That's just great. I suppose he's goin' to be squawkin' all night long."

"Now don't be like that," Ford told him. "Captain Jack likes you, you know. He really does. If you're not careful,

you're gonna hurt his feelings."

"Yeah, yeah," Evan joked back. "Cry me a river, little brother."

We all three were laughing when we walked thru the front door, Ford first, then me, and then Evan.

Inside, we were met by the sight of Adam sitting on the end of one of the couches. The couch that was facing the door.

Hannah was sitting beside him, holding his hand. Crane was sitting there, too, in the oversized chair next to the couch.

Adam had one foot crossed, resting atop the opposite knee. Crane had the same body posture, except that he was jiggling the foot

propped on his knee back and forth.

Even as Ford greeted them, joking with Hannah about if there was any pie left from earlier, I felt the tenseness of the atmosphere

in the room. When I looked at Adam, it was obvious that he was angry about something. His jaw was set in a hard line.

I kind of came to a halt, standing a little behind Ford. I knew, without hearing a word, that whatever was causing Adam to look like

that had something to do with me. A person just knows these things.

Evan, apparently oblivious, closed the door behind us, and went to flop down on the opposite couch.

I looked at Crane, and he looked right back at me. He looked grim, too. I looked to Hannah then, for a possible clue,

and she gave me a steady look. She looked disappointed, and I thought maybe it was because she noticed that I was wearing

the mysterious sweater.

"How was your evening?" Hannah was asking Evan, and Ford. I was grateful for her attempt at normalcy.

"Good," Evan answered. "I whipped Ford and Eddie both at pool tonight."

"Where's Guthrie?" Crane asked, in a general way.

"He was in the middle of a game," Ford said. "He'll be along in a bit, but we decided to head on home, because Har was cold."

Standing behind Ford as I was, I gave him a poke, unseen by the others. He didn't have to announce the fact that I'd been cold!

Or wet. There would be questions about those things. And, not knowing exactly what was going on, I sure didn't want to add to it!

"Your jeans are wet," Adam said, looking right at me. It wasn't a question, not by any stretch. It was a statement, plain and simple.

It was quiet for the longest moment.

I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything. Truthfully, I was scared right then. He wasn't yelling, or hollering, or pacing. But, still,

I could feel the anger radiating from him, and it was scary. Ever since I was a little girl, Adam most times, hardly had to say a word to me to

get his point across. Sometimes a look from him was all it took to bring me back into line. Of course, there were other times when

he would scold, or lecture, or even yell at me. But that look. He had that look right now, and I felt my stomach doing

loop-de-loops in nervousness. I hooked my fingers thru the back of Ford's belt loops. Somehow that made me feel better.

"Nothing to say?" Adam asked me then, his voice dangerously quiet. That's when I knew that it had something to do with

me being half-soaked.

I bit my lip, looking at him in trepidation. I wasn't sure just what I should say. Or not say.

"Are your feet wet too, Harlie?" Hannah asked me then.

Since my jeans were soaked up to the knees, obvious in the bright light of the living room, I knew Hannah wasn't really asking, since

it would stand to reason that my boots were wet, and thus, my feet.

"Yeah," I said, quietly.

"Go upstairs and get changed into somethin' dry," Adam said. "And then you hustle yourself back down here. We're goin'

to have a long talk."

Ford reached back and took my hand, the one that was gripped around his belt loops. He loosened my fingers and then

gave my hand a squeeze of silent support.

"Okay," I said, and went up the stairs quickly. In my room, I pulled off my boots, and soaked socks.

I stripped out of my wet jeans and threw them and the cashmere sweater on the floor in the corner. I rummaged thru my

pajama drawer, pulling out my fuzziest, warmest pair of pajamas. They're blue with white cats all over them. I'm not a big fan of

them ordinarily, because they're usually too hot. But tonight, well, the soft flannel was warm and comforting. Once I had them them

on, I undid my braid, the one that Clare had done so carefully earlier in the evening. I put on a wide headband, and left my hair

down, the curls springing everywhere.

I wondered briefly where Brian and Clare were at. Now that I thought about it, Clare's car had been missing from its usual

parking spot. Maybe they'd gone out to eat, or a movie. I felt only relief that Brian was absent for whatever was about to take

place downstairs. Most times, Brian is in my corner on things, but I had the feeling that whatever had Adam simmering was most

likely something that Brian would be mad about, too.

My thoughts were running wild with the possible reasons that I was about to get raked over the coals downstairs. It must have

something to do with me being all wet. The way Adam had said that, about my jeans being wet, in kind of an ominous way, made me

think that must have something to do with it. But why would he be so mad about that? It could have been something totally innocent that

caused me to get soaked like that. I might have fallen in a puddle, or something like that, for example.

My conscience popped up with the reminder that it could have been innocent, but that it hadn't been. But how would Adam have

found out that I wasn't with Guthrie, safe and sound at Butch's Place? He couldn't possibly know that I'd gone elsewhere, or most especially, he

couldn't have known that I'd gotten soaked from a dunking in a lake, at a party where there'd been underage drinking going on. I realized

it had to have come from Lori somehow. Or her parents. Another unwelcome thought occurred. Could Adam, or Crane, or

one of them, have found out about Karissa, and how I'd been meeting with her?

I shook my head to clear it. There was no use trying to figure it out.

I got out a pair of thick socks, the kind that people wear when they go hunting in the wintertime. They're pretty old, but they

still looked new, because I never had any reason to wear socks like that. But tonight, they were just right. I thought, as I

sat on the edge of my bed to pull them on, that a couple of my toes looked more blue than red from being trapped in wet socks and boots.

I went to the top of the stairs, and paused, trying to draw on my inner courage. I peered over a little, and when I heard

Clare's laugh, and the front door closing, well, whatever inner courage that I'd had, which wasn't much, vanished. Now

Brian was home. The firing squad was complete.

I could hear them all talking, but I couldn't hear everything that they were saying. Only enough to know that they were discussing

me. Probably filling Brian in. I saw Clare coming up the stairs, and flattened myself against the wall, waiting.

I raised my hands at her questioningly. She gave me a sympathetic shake of her head, and then motioned for me to

go down the stairs.

I edged my way down to the halfway mark of the stairs, and stopped. I had the beginnings of what I knew was a headache

caused by not eating a snack since supper, and by drinking three sugary sodas.

Crane was standing up now, and Brian had taken his spot in the oversized chair, leaning forward, with his elbows resting on his

knees. Evan had disappeared. The only relief I felt was at the sight of Ford, standing near Crane. Ford would be,

I thought morosely, the only sympatico, the only comrade that I would have in that entire room.

I went on down the stairs, trying to brace myself up.

The room had gone quiet, even before I reached the bottom of the stairs, and paused there, waiting.

"Come over here, Harlie. Sit down," Adam said, and I obeyed, sitting down on the other couch, where I

was facing all of them.

Crane gave Ford a pat on the shoulder, which I guess was some sort of signal, because Ford said, "Well, I'm gonna turn in. Goodnight

everybody."

There were some answering goodnights, from Hannah and Crane. Adam and Brian were both silent.

"I want Ford to stay," I blurted out, without thinking it thru.

Silence. Heavy oppressive silence.

Ford was standing there, looking as if he felt awkward at my declaration.

"Ford's not gonna save you, Harlie," Adam said, grimly, and I knew I'd only made things worse.

And then Ford was gone, giving me a wink that I knew was meant to be reassuring.

Adam leaned forward a little.

"Did you stay at Butch's all evening?" he asked.

"No." I knew there was no sense in not admitting it. I had the feeling that he already knew, anyway.

"Where'd you go?" This from Brian.

"Lori and I went to another girl's house."

"Why?" Adam asked shortly.

I blinked at him, sort of confused. "What?"

"Why did you do that?"

I hesitated. My reasons were going to sound stupid. Irresponsible.

"Answer me," Adam said, his voice clipped.

"After we watched the guys play a few games, we just thought we'd go," I said, my voice trailing off.

"You just thought you'd go," Adam repeated, in that deadly quiet tone.

I bit my lip, and looked at him, not sure what to say.

Crane came over and sat down on the opposite end of the couch I was sitting on.

"What happened at the other girl's house?" Crane asked.

He sounded calm, and I turned to look at him. "What do you mean?" I asked.

"He's asking what you did at that girl's house!" Brian snapped, his voice at about a level seven.

"Brian," Hannah said, in a placating way.

Brian gave her an impatient glance and kept glaring at me.

"They had some boats there. We went out in one of the canoes," I said reluctantly.

"And that's how you got wet, huh?" Crane said.

"One of the girls stood up in the canoe like an idiot, and started rocking it," I started to explain. I kept looking

at Crane, because looking at Adam and Brian made me feel too queasy.

"Were you drinking, Harlie?" Hannah asked, in a quiet way.

I turned quickly to face her. "No."

Not a single one of them looked as though they believed me. I suddenly felt as if were vitally important that they did.

"I wasn't, Hannah! Not at all!"

Hannah looked sad, and as I looked from one brother to the next, they clearly thought I was lying thru my teeth.

"I wasn't!" I said again, feeling as if I was going to cry. If I was going to get into trouble, I sure didn't want to be blamed for

something that I hadn't done. "You have to believe me!"

"Why?" Adam said, sounding angry. "Why do we have to believe you?"

"Because it's the truth!" I said, getting louder myself.

For a long moment there was silence in the room, and then Adam said, in a voice that was quieter, but sad sounding, "That's not

the way the truth works, Harlie. You can't tell it when it suits you, and then just disregard it when it doesn't."

"Okay, I understand that, but I wasn't drinking, Adam! I wasn't! My jacket smells like beer, but that's because the girl that stood up

in the canoe sloshed beer all over me."

Again there was silence.

"Alright," Adam said. That was it. Just like that. Alright.

It was such a quick change that I was startled. I brushed at my wet eyes. "You believe me, then? That I wasn't

drinking?"

"I believe you," Adam said.

I felt a sense of relief that was palatable. I looked at Brian and Crane. "You guys do, too? Believe me?"

Crane nodded, looking solemn.

"About the drinkin', I believe you," Brian said, in a way that left a lot unsaid. I looked at him, puzzled, wondering what he

was getting at.

They were all watching me, and I felt like a bug under a microscope, being peered at by a bunch of scientists. Disapproving scientists.

"I didn't do any drinking. We just went for a canoe ride. And then we went back to town," I said, a trifle defensively. "What's so

wrong with that?"

I heard Hannah's quick intake of breath, and knew she was shocked by my comment.

"You watch that mouth, missy," Brian said, at a level five voice.

"What's so wrong with it?" Adam repeated. "You tell me, Harlie."

I hesitated, biting my lip, and avoiding looking at Brian's thundercloud face. I let my eyes swing to Crane, hoping for

some support. He didn't really help in that department, though. He had his disappointed face on.

"Because there were kids drinking there," I said, looking back at Adam. "But I told you-"

"You weren't drinking," Adam finished my sentence for me. "We've already clarified that. What else is wrong with

you doing what you did?"

I met his glance, and for a few moments it felt as if there wasn't anybody else in the room but him and I.

"I should have stayed at Butch's with Guthrie," I admitted.

"That's exactly right. You should have."

"I just didn't think it was that big of a deal," I said. "To go to Miranda's, I mean."

"Maybe it wouldn't have been that big of a deal," Adam said, quietly, "Except for one thing."

He was quiet, just for the merest of a moment, and I waited.

"You left here with your brother. And, because of that, we assumed that's where you were. At Butch's, with

Guthrie, and the other kids there. Not leaving there to go somewhere else, where there was alcohol, and no supervision. We trusted

you to be where we thought you were."

I felt my face flush all hot. Suddenly, my flannel pajamas were way too warm.

Guthrie chose that moment to come thru the front door, his eyes widening as he surveyed the living room.

"Everybody still up?" he asked cheerfully.

When he was greeted only by silence, and grim expressions, Guthrie closed the door gently and asked, "What's goin' on?"

"Sit down, Guth," Adam said, and Guthrie walked over to the couch and sat in the spot between Crane and I. He tried to get

my attention, but I avoided his eye.

"What's wrong?" Guthrie asked, concerned.

"We're havin' a talk about honesty," Adam said. "And trust."

"Oh," Guthrie sounded puzzled.

"Did you know where your sister was going when she left Butch's tonight?" Brian asked.

Before Guthrie even had a chance to answer, I sat up straight, and said vehemently, "No, he didn't! I didn't tell him! This isn't

Guthrie's fault."

Guthrie turned to me. "Where'd you go?" he asked.

Instead of answering his question, I kept my eyes on Adam, and said again, "Guthrie didn't know."

"She just went drivin' around with Lori for awhile," Guthrie said. "Or to a friend's." He looked at me again. "Right, Har?"

"That's not exactly what happened, is it, Harlie?" Adam asked in a quiet way.

"No," I said reluctantly.

"Go on up to bed, Guth," Adam said then.

"Okay," Guthrie said, but he kept sitting there beside me. "But what did happen, exactly?"

He was popping his knuckles in nervousness.

"Go on to bed," Adam said again.

Guthrie got to his feet, and, obviously reluctant, he headed up the stairs. I was sorry, for sure, to see

him go.

"Did Lori's mom call you?" I asked.

"That's right."

Lori must have gotten caught trying to sneak into the house in her wet clothes.

In another abrupt change that left me surprised and wary, Adam said, "Tell me about Wednesday night."

Wednesday night? I thought quickly back to two nights ago. I'd met up with Karissa, and then went to my night

class. Gotten home late. Adam had been angry, and then we'd agreed to talk the next night. Which was then postponed, because

of the emergency with the cow that had been in labor.

I wasn't sure what Adam was getting at. He couldn't have found out about Karissa. That much I was sure of.

"I had my class Wednesday night," I said slowly, trying to read Adam's face.

"Uh huh. And?"

"I was late getting home, and you were upset with me," I said, still not sure where this was going.

"Yeah. I was. " Adam leaned forward a little more. "You asked to go to Lori's after school. To do homework and eat supper. That

right?"

"Yeah," I said slowly. When I didn't say any more, Adam's expression changed. He went from looking angry to looking downright

furious. He stood up, and jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"Damn it, Harlie!" he swore, and I blinked at him, even more scared than I had been.

"What?" I asked, honestly perplexed.

Instead of Adam, Hannah said, "Lori's mother said you left before they ate supper. That you wanted to go to class early."

Geez. Lori's mom had surely been generous with her information.

"Yeah," I said.

"Yeah, what?" Brian demanded. "Yeah, you left before they ate supper? Or yeah, you wanted to go to class early?"

"Both," I said.

"So you didn't eat then?" Adam asked. "After you made a specific promise to me that you would?"

"I ate," I said, without thinking.

"Yeah?" Adam asked, raising an eyebrow at me.

"Yes, Adam," I said, praying that he wouldn't ask me what, or where at.

"But not at Lori's. So again, not what you said that you were going to do, and not where you said you were going to be," Adam said, more quietly.

I wasn't sure what I was going to say, but before I could decide, Adam went on ruthlessly, "How about the night you were late

gettin' home from your car hopping job? Were you really doin' something else that night, too?"

I couldn't help the flush on my face, a sign that I knew Adam would take as guilt.

"I was working that night," I defended myself.

"And then after work?" he prompted.

"I was talking to someone-" I began. Every fiber in my being said that tonight was not the right time to tell them about Karissa.

Adam held up a hand to silence me. "You know what, Harlie? Just save it. I'm thinking now that you just might have

been drinking tonight after all. I'm beginning to doubt every word that comes out of your mouth."

I stared at him. If he'd slapped my face, he couldn't have hurt me any more than he did with his words.

"Please don't say that," I said, so softly it was almost a whisper.

"Why not?" he countered.

"Because," I said, feeling sick to my stomach, "I don't want you to think that about me."

"Well, then," Adam said, not sounding angry anymore, but just tired, "I guess you've got some work ahead of you, to rebuild

my trust."

He looked thoughtful for a moment, and then said, "You're grounded. Two weeks. That means nothing but school and church. No

phone. No driving. Chores and homework, that's it. Understood?"

I nodded. "What about my night class on Wednesdays?" I dared to ask.

Adam exchanged a look in Brian and Crane's direction. "What do you guys say?" he asked.

"I say she doesn't go. Period," Brian said.

"I have to go," I protested. "Or I'll get too far behind! Please, Brian!"

After a long moment, Brian gave a shrug, "Well, maybe so."

"Alright," Adam said. "You can go, but one of us will drive you in, and then pick you up when it's over."

I wanted to protest, I really did, but I bit my tongue.

"Alright," Adam said. "We clear on everything?"

I nodded, feeling miserable.

"Answer," he ordered.

"Yes. We're clear," I said.

"Go do your shot, and get to bed," he said, and turned to go up the stairs. Brian gave me a frightening look, more of a glare,

really, and then turned to follow Adam.

I was left sitting there with Crane next to me, and Hannah across from me.

My eyes filled with tears. Hannah gave a heavy sigh, and stood up. She came over to stand in front of me.

"Tomorrow's another day, sweetie."

I gave the merest of nods, and Hannah sighed again, and ran her hand over my hair.

When she had gone, to follow Adam and Brian up the stairs, I sat there for another moment or so, and Crane stood up, too,

and held out a hand to me.

"Come on," he said.

I looked at his hand without taking it, and then up into his face.

"What?" I asked.

"Come on," he said again, and I took his hand, letting him pull me to my feet.

He put a hand on the middle of my back, and directed me towards the kitchen.

Once there, he switched on the lights.

"Get your shot done," he told me, and I went to get out my supplies, wiping at my cheek with the palm of my hand.

While I was doing that, Crane went to the refrigerator, got out the eggs, and started cracking and frying some in the

egg skillet.

"Put some toast in," he said, as I was putting away my supplies.

I looked at him puzzled, and then went to get the bread out of the bread box.

"How many pieces?" I asked him, pushing down the first two pieces of bread into the toaster.

"Two for me, and however many you want."

"I don't want any toast," I said.

"A person has to have toast with eggs," he said.

"I don't want any eggs, either," I protested.

"Impossible to have an egg sandwich without eggs," Crane said, and I decided that he had gone a little crazy. Well, so had I, so

at least I'd have some company.

7


	11. Clarence up the stairs

Crane finished frying up a bunch of eggs, and then went to work putting a generous amount of mayonnaise on the toasted slices of bread. He pulled lettuce and tomatoes out of the refrigerator, and put those on, too, and then the fried eggs.

While he'd been cooking up the eggs, he hadn't said anything at all to me, and I was silent, too, sitting down at the

table, and putting my head down on the table, like little kids do at school, with my face laying on my folded arms.

When he said, "Sit up," I did so reluctantly, and he set a plate in front of me. He preceded to get out the milk, carrying it and two glasses to the table.

He poured us both a glass full of milk, and pushed the plate in front of me a little closer. "Eat," he said.

I looked at the sandwich. It was mammoth-sized. I even saw sliced pickles peeking out of the side of the bread.

"This is a huge sandwich," I said, mostly to make conversation.

"It's a Dagwood," Crane said.

"What's a Dagwood?" I asked, lifting it up and taking a bite.

"Dagwood. You know, from the cartoon, Blondie? Dagwood Bumstead. This is what kind of sandwich that he always

eats."

"Oh."

For a few minutes, we ate in silence.

I remembered that he'd had plans that night with Lila. So, again in an attempt at conversation, I asked, "How was

your date with Lila?"

"It was good," he said, taking a long drink from his glass of milk.

Again, there was quiet between us. Crane finished his milk, and poured another half a glass.

"Want some more?" he asked, holding the jug of milk over my half-empty glass.

"No, thanks."

As Crane set the jug down, and leaned back a little in his chair, I watched him covertly, trying to gauge his mood. His demeanor didn't suggest that he was angry, but with Crane it's hard to tell sometimes. He tends to have more of a "quiet" type of anger. He very rarely yells.

"Are you mad at me, too? Like everybody else?" I asked him, a little plaintively.

Instead of answering immediately, Crane leaned back even more, and stretched his legs out, his eyes on my face.

"Do you think I should be?" he asked me.

What kind of question was that supposed to be? He either was, or he wasn't. It must be one of those questions that adults ask to make you think about stuff.

I sighed. "I guess so."

"Things that begin small can snowball really quickly, until they're way bigger than they should ever be," he said.

I thought of not just tonight, but of the whole time since Karissa had first come around. It sure did fit that snowball

analogy of Crane's.

I bit at my lip, looking at him. "I wasn't drinking tonight, Crane. That was the truth."

"I hope it is," he said, looking serious.

My stomach had begun to hurt and I knew I couldn't eat any more. I pushed the plate away, with half of my sandwich still on it. "There's no use to anything, if no one is going to believe anything that I say from now on!"

Crane gave me a hard look. "I hope you don't mean that, Harlie." He stood up, picking up his plate and glass, taking them to the sink.

"Are you finished?" he asked me, gesturing to my plate.

When I nodded, he said, "Bring it over here."

I picked up my plate and glass, and set them on the counter, taking the remainder of my sandwich, and tossing it out the back door to Gus, who was in his usual spot. I closed the back door, and turned to watch Crane, who had started rinsing the plates.

"Why do you hope that?" I asked quietly, feeling defeated.

"Because that's a pretty immature attitude to have. I expect better from you."

"You expect a lot from me. You all do," I said crossly.

"Yep. And that's not going to change," Crane said.

He turned around to lean against the sink, drying his hands on a dishtowel.

"Past time to hit the sack," he said. He tossed the towel onto the counter, and motioned me to head out of the

kitchen in front of him, switching off the light as we went out.

At the door of my bedroom, he paused, and rested his hand on the back of my head.

"Thanks for the Dagwood sandwich," I said, wishing he would give me a hug.

"You're welcome," he said. "Get some sleep."

I watched him go down the hall to his own room, before I sighed, and went in to my bedroom. I was suddenly so

lonely for Daniel that I wanted to burst into tears. If he was here, he'd be mad at me too, but after he'd grouched at me for awhile, then we would talk, and he'd end up making me laugh.

I started to climb under my quilt, and then I got up again, going down the stairs as quietly as I could. I opened the front door and snapped my fingers. I could make out Clarence's square body, by the light from the pole light in the driveway.

"Come on, fella," I whispered. He obediently got to his feet, and I reached down to pick up his blanket.

Once inside, I picked him up, and climbed the stairs. By the time I got to the top I was winded.

When we were safely in my bedroom, with the door shut, I set him on the floor gently.

"You seriously need to go on a diet," I told him. "Then you'd be able to climb the stairs by yourself."

He thumped his tail in reply, and rolled over on his back. I scratched his belly, and then went to pick up the cashmere

sweater off of the floor. I hung it over the headboard of my bed, figuring that it hadn't done it any good to be thrown on the floor that way.

I was settled in my bed, lights off, when Clarence began to cry.

"Shush," I told him, reaching down to pet him in the darkness. "You want to get us both kicked out of the house?"

After another whimper, I sighed, got up, and lifted Clarence to lay on my bed.

"Happy now?" I asked him.

In answer, Clarence pressed his fat self against me, and within a few minutes, was snoring.

7

I woke up the next morning to the sounds of doors opening and closing, and footsteps up and down the hallway.

I looked at my alarm clock. 6:45. Clarence was still snoring, so since he wasn't asking to go outside, I turned over and

went back to sleep. After all, what did I have to get up for? There was only chores facing me. And disapproving faces.

Maybe more lectures.

When I woke up again, it was 7:30. Still early, especially for a Saturday, but Clarence was making his usual noises

about wanting to go outside.

"Don't be impatient," I told him, and he waited at my door while I got dressed in a pair of jeans that are torn at the

knee, and a George Jones t-shirt that used to belong to Daniel. I left on the heavy woolen socks that I'd worn to bed, and toted Clarence down the stairs. The front stairs, since I wanted to avoid using the back ones. Too near the kitchen, where there was bound to be brothers eating breakfast.

The living room, thankfully, was empty, though I could hear voices coming from the kitchen. I put Clarence down, and

opened the front door, stepping out onto the porch after him. Clarence ambled across the yard and I laid his blanket on the top step where he could retrieve it when he wanted to.

I took a deep breath of morning air. Everything smelled so clean, and fresh. I wished that it could be that way for me, too.

That I could just start my day with a new beginning. No past offenses hanging over my head.

I had the sudden worrisome thought that Guthrie might be mad at me. For leaving Butch's Place, and going to

a party without telling him. And then causing him to be questioned by Adam when he got home.

Great. Something else to make my stomach knot in worry, and dull the beauty of the morning. I was trying to work up

my courage to head to the kitchen for breakfast, when the screen door was pushed open, and Adam came out, a

cup of coffee in one hand.

"Morning," he said, when he saw me standing there.

"Morning," I answered, turning to face the barnyard, to avoid his eyes.

"Clarence spend the night in your room?" he asked.

I gave an inner groan. Good grief. Was there nothing that he didn't know? Well, yes, there was. He didn't know

about Karissa. Aunt Karissa.

"Yeah," I admitted.

Clarence, upon hearing his name, came obediently back to the stairs, and managed, with difficulty, to

heave his hefty body up the stairs.

"He seems pretty stiff today," Adam observed.

"His arthritis bothers him," I said.

After a couple of moments, Adam said, "You'd better get to the breakfast table before Ford and Guthrie eat everything that's left."

"Okay," I said.

I turned and went inside without saying anything more. Going into the kitchen, I tried to avoid really looking at

anybody. It was noisy, as is typical, and the smell of bacon filtered thru the air. I slid into my seat, pouring some milk from the pitcher in front of me.

"Good morning," Hannah said, kind of quietly.

"Morning," I said, without meeting her eyes.

Hannah reached out for the platter of eggs, and handed it to me.

I took it and scooped some eggs off, and started eating, letting the conversation float around me.

Clare was getting ready to head to work at the hospital, and was drinking a last cup of coffee.

"I'm running late," she groaned, looking at her watch.

"Finish your coffee. I'll start your car," Brian said, and went out the back door.

"Drive safe," Crane told her.

"I will. See you all later," Clare said, and went out the way Brian had gone.

When Brian came back in, Adam was with him, and they both got more coffee and sat back down in their chairs.

Conversation turned to chores that were on the agenda for the day. I finished my eggs, but just sat there quietly. I

didn't want to call any attention to myself. I felt as if I did, that I would probably just get jumped on by any one of a number of people still at the table.

I heard Evan ask who was going to make the run into town for the weekly pickup of feed.

"Harlie gonna do that?" he asked, in a general way.

"No," Adam said, sounding terse.

Evan looked a little surprised, and so did Ford, and I reached for my glass of milk, avoiding everyone's gaze. I felt my face turn red in embarrassment. I felt even lower. They didn't even trust me to do that!

"You have time to go?" Adam asked Evan then.

"Yeah," Evan agreed, still sounding puzzled.

Adam was asking Hannah if we needed anything at the grocery store, and did she want Evan to grab it while he was

in town, or was she going to go herself later?

"I planned to go after lunch sometime. I'd thought about taking Isaac with me to go visit with Marie for awhile," Hannah told him.

Adam nodded. "Okay."

Evan and Ford got up and pushed in their chairs, going out together.

Guthrie, who up until now had been quiet, and just eating, now spoke up. "What do you guys want me to do?"

"You can do your regular chores, and then help Ford change the oil in the truck. And the Jeep, too, if you have time," Adam told him.

Guthrie nodded. "Okay." He nudged me with his elbow. "Come on," he said, in a low voice, getting up.

I knew he wanted to talk to me, and find out about last night, and what had been going on when he got home.

I stood up, and Adam held up a hand.

"Just a minute," he told me, and then to Guthrie he said, "Go on out, Guth. She'll be out in a minute to talk to you."

"Okay," Guthrie said, looking hesitant. When he'd gone, I stood there, one folded knee resting in my chair.

Inside, I was anxious. What now? More lectures?

"Sit down," Adam said, motioning to my chair.

I sat down reluctantly.

"Let's talk about what you're goin' to do today," he said.

"Chores. I already know," I said, and immediately regretted it, as his eyebrows raised.

"Harlie," Crane said, his tone reproving.

"I'm just saying, I know I have chores," I said, by way of explanation, but I think I only made it worse.

"Well, that's good," Adam said, sounding mad again, "it's good that you know that. That means you were listening

to at least that much of what I said to you last night."

"I listened to more than that," I said, feeling defensive. I could hear it in my voice, too. "I heard everything that

you said."

"You did, huh?"

"Yes. I did," I said, and tried to look him in the eye.

"Adam," Hannah said quietly, from her end of the table.

Adam's glance flicked from me to Hannah, and then back to me again. He sighed.

"Help Hannah this morning in the house, and then after lunch, we'll find somethin' for you to do outside," he said.

I couldn't believe it! They didn't even trust me to stay in the house by myself! What in the heck did they think I was going to do?

It was all I could manage to nod at him. I didn't trust myself to answer. If I tried, I thought that I might scream, or raise my voice to him louder than I'd ever done. All that would do is get me into more trouble.

When I could finally escape outside, I found Guthrie sitting on the top step on the front porch.

I sat down next to him, and for a couple of moments we were quiet, watching as Evan and Ford shoved each other playfully across the barnyard.

"I wish Daniel was home," I said.

Guthrie turned to look at me. "What happened last night?" he asked me, ignoring my comment about Daniel.

"Lori and I went over to Miranda's," I admitted. "Somebody was acting stupid and dumped us out of the canoe. I guess

Lori must have gotten caught in her wet clothes. And then her mom called Adam to tell him where we'd gone."

Guthrie didn't say anything for a long moment. Then he looked away, out towards the barnyard again.

"What did you go and do that for?" he demanded. "I thought you were just gonna drive around or somethin'."

"I know. I'm sorry I didn't tell you," I apologized.

He was quiet again and I said, "I didn't drink or anything. We just went for a canoe ride and then came back."

"What did Adam say? He seemed like he was pretty steamed."

"He was. He still is. And Brian is, too. He's not even talking to me at all."

"Because of last night?"

"Not just last night. Adam brought up me being late getting home Wednesday and all of that."

"Did you tell him about-" he turned to check behind him for anybody listening, "about Karissa?"

"No. How could I do that, especially now? He said I'm nothing but a big fat liar. Imagine me telling them about her

right now?"

"He did not say that to you," Guthrie said decisively. "He did not call you a big fat liar."

"Well, not those words exactly." I admitted. "But that's what he meant. He said," I paused, trying to remember

the exact words that Adam had used, "not to talk any more, because he was starting to not believe a word that

came out of my mouth."

"Ouch," Guthrie winced.

"Yeah." Just saying the words had made me feel really bad again. "He's never said anything so mean to me before."

"Probably he didn't intend for it to sound that way," Guthrie said, in an attempt to make me feel better.

"Yes, he did," I said, with certainty. "He meant it. He said I can't go anywhere except school and church, and I can't drive at all, not even to my night class. Somebody has to take me and then come to pick me up. "

"How long?"

"Two weeks."

"Well, I knew if you kept pushin' him, he was going to lose patience with you," Guthrie said, sounding regretful.

"That's nice, Guth. Say 'I told you so' to me."

"I didn't say that. I wouldn't tell you that," Guthrie denied.

"Oh, I know," I said, with a sigh. And I did know that. It's not Guthrie's way to rub my mistakes in my face, even if

it's something that he thinks I shouldn't have done.

"I'm just feeling bad," I told him. "You're not mad at me, are you? For going over to Miranda's?"

"I wish you would have just stayed at Butch's, but no, I'm not mad at ya."

"You and Ford," I sighed. "The only friends I have in the house."

"Oh, come on," Guthrie said, elbowing me in the ribs. "What about Isaac? And then there's Clarence-"

7


	12. Guthrie the Great

After Guthrie had ambled off to do his chores, I went back into the house, and sought Hannah out. She was

busy washing the breakfast dishes, and Isaac was in his wind-up swing. I bent down to touch his little hand.

"He dearly loves that swing," Hannah said.

"He sure does," I agreed.

"Carol Williams was telling me at church last week about her sister's baby. It got so that the swing was only place

her four month old would sleep. Whenever it would stop, somebody would have to rewind it or the baby would wake up and

start fussing. I sure hope that doesn't happen with our little man here," Hannah said.

"It won't," I said. "Isaac would never do that."

Hannah smiled at me, and went back to washing dishes. "You're just a proud aunt," she said.

"What do you want me to do?" I asked her.

"You could start some laundry," she told me. "Then we could do some dusting. I've been falling behind on that

lately."

"Okay. I'll go up and gather up the baby clothes."

"Thanks, sweetie. Most of it should be in the hamper."

After I'd gathered up Isaac's laundry, and some towels I found in the bathroom, I took them down to the basement,

and started a load in both of the washing machines. There were a couple of baskets of jeans sitting in front of the washers, too,

and I knew it would be a full morning of laundry. I checked the dryer, and found it full of diapers and more baby clothes.

I toted those upstairs, and went into the kitchen with my basket. Hannah had finished the dishes, and was wiping down

the counters.

"What sounds good for supper tonight?" she asked me, as I set the basket on the table, and started pulling out tiny little

onesies and socks to fold.

"It doesn't matter. Anything you make will be good," I said.

I was surprised when Hannah touched my shoulder gently and then gave me a spontaneous hug.

"That's so sweet of you to say. Thank you."

I hugged her back, inhaling the comforting scent of her coconut shampoo.

"You're welcome," I said, thinking that it took so little to please Hannah.

Hannah started helping to fold the diapers, into neat squares.

"Have you decided about the sweater yet?" she asked me, in a quiet voice, and I looked up at her questioningly.

"I mean, what goes before the sweater. You said you had to discuss that part with Adam and Brian first," she reminded me.

"No. I mean, I haven't decided when to talk to them."

"Hmm," Hannah said, and then she patted my back. "Can you get started dusting in the living room?" she asked.

"Yes. I will." I paused and then said, "I just don't know how to talk to them right now."

Hannah paused, too. "What do you mean?"

"It's a big thing, Hannah. What I need to talk about." I picked up another baby t-shirt and folded it, not looking at her. "It's big,

and it was going to be hard enough to talk about to begin with. But now-after last night, it's going to be even harder. Not even possible."

Hannah turned my chin up gently with her hand. "You mustn't ever feel that way, sweetie. As if you can't talk to them about

anything. Why, Adam would be heartbroken if he knew you felt that way."

"He thinks I'm a liar," I said.

"He's disappointed, Harlie. He wants you to be honest. He wants to be able to trust you."

"I know." I sighed. "But gosh, Hannah, it's hard to live up to the expectations they have."

Instead of scolding me, or telling me that I just needed to accept what was expected of me, Hannah nodded.

"I'm sure sometimes it is," she said, surprising me.

I gave her a grateful smile. "Thanks," I said. "For understanding."

"You're welcome." She regarded me seriously for another moment. "But, sweetie, you must talk to them. If it's that

important, and that worrisome to you, you have to talk to them about it soon."

"I'll think about it," I said.

I was kept busy the rest of the morning, doing the laundry, folding it and putting it all away. I dusted the living room, which

turned out to be a big job. I even used our sliding ladder to dust the high shelves, which almost never gets done.

When Hannah came downstairs and saw me doing that she stopped to watch me.

"I appreciate you doing that, sweetie, but you know I don't like it when you're on that thing. Now be careful," she cautioned.

I turned from my vantage point to smile down at her. "I've been getting on this thing since I was barely old enough to walk," I told her.

"Yes, I know. So you all keep telling me. I don't care, though. Come on and finish, and come down."

"If Guthrie was in here, we could show you our trick that we perfected when we were little," I said.

"I don't want to see any trick," she said, frowning at me.

"What are you going to do when Isaac wants to start playing on it?" I asked her, teasing.

"I'm seriously thinking about having Adam take it out."

As the door opened then, and the guys all started coming thru the front door, ready for their lunch,

Adam asked, "What are you thinking of having me take out?"

"That," Hannah said, pointing at the ladder.

Her pronouncement was meant with groans and protests.

"Ah, Hannah, you can't do that," Evan protested.

"Yeah. It's practically like a landmark or something," Ford chimed in.

"Oh, it is not," Hannah denied.

"This," Evan said, coming over to rest his hand on the side of the ladder, "is more than what it seems to be. It's not just

a ladder."

"Oh, okay," Hannah said, with an eye roll. "Don't start hamming it up."

"This represents hours of stimulating adventures," Evan said, and Guthrie and Ford started humming along as Evan

pounded on his chest theatrically. "As kids, this was how we survived boredom on rainy days."

"And on days we stayed home sick from school," Ford added.

"I wouldn't be a bit shocked at that," Brian said drily. "You characters were always pretending to be sick to get

out of school."

"I never did," I denied, from my perch above them all.

"No, we never had to worry about you faking sick," Brian agreed, and when he looked up at me,

I had the sudden hopeful thought that maybe he wasn't mad at me any longer. Or as mad, anyway.

"That's because Harlie was a suck-up at school," Evan said, teasing me. He gave the ladder a push which sent

me to the other end. Not flying, but fast enough.

I giggled a little, and Ford gave me another push to send me back again.

"I'd forgotten how much fun this was," I said, as the ladder came to a jolting halt.

"That's enough," Hannah said. "Let's eat lunch."

"Wait. Wait, Hannah," Guthrie said. "You've got to watch this. Har, come down."

I knew what Guthrie was up to, and I obediently came down the ladder.

"Watch what?" Hannah asked. "I don't think I want to watch any tricks, Guthrie."

Guthrie scrambled to the top of the ladder, even further up than I had been.

"Move the couch out of the way, Ev," he said, and Evan and Ford immediately began pushing the couch that was under the ladder

against the wall.

When Guthrie turned so that he was facing out, with his back against the ladder, Hannah's eyes widened.

"What are you doing now?" she asked.

"I am," Guthrie said, flinging his arms wide, "about to perform a death defying act, one which no other person

has ever attempted-"

"Behold," Ford said, with a wave of his arm towards Guthrie, "Guthrie the Great!"

Hannah put her hands on her hips. "Would you one of you responsible adults please put a stop to this?" she said, appealing

to Adam, Brian and Crane.

Crane and Brian just gave her amused looks, and crossed their arms, looking up at Guthrie.

"Adam?" she said.

Adam grinned at her, and put his arm around her shoulders.

"I've never seen him miss once yet," he said, in an attempt to be reassuring.

"Miss at what?" Hannah demanded.

"Prepare to be amazed," Guthrie told her.

"I'll tell you what I'm not prepared to do, and that's clean up any blood from this death defying act, Guthrie James. Just so

you understand that. Are we clear?" she said, and I could hear the smile in her voice.

"Yes, ma'm," Guthrie said, grinning down at her.

"It's been awhile since you did this, right, Guth?" Crane asked.

"Absolutely under control," Guthrie said, and then said, "I'm ready, Ford."

Ford gave the ladder a hard shove that sent Guthrie flying, to Evan's waiting hands. Evan shoved again, harder even,

and Guthrie's ball cap blew off in his flight. As everybody stared upwards, the ladder came to a slamming sudden halt, and

in that precise moment, Guthrie jumped, did a somersault in the air, and landed on his feet, in the center of the living

room.

Hannah stared, probably in shock, while I, along with the rest of the guys, gave the appropriate hand clapping that

was deserved. Except for Adam, who kept his arm around Hannah.

"Thank you," Guthrie said, bowing with a flourish. "Thank you very much."

"I don't believe it," Hannah said. "I saw it, but I still don't believe it."

"I'm surprised you could still do it like that," Crane said.

"Oh, I've had a few practices at it," Guthrie told him. "When Hannah wasn't home, of course."

"Oh, I see how it is now," Hannah said. "You wait until I'm gone and then you're up to all this dangerous foolishness."

"That's exactly right," Guthrie said, and she reached out to grab him and rub her knuckles on his head.

"Just don't," she said, turning to point a finger at Guthrie, Ford and Evan, "don't any one of you ever teach that

to Isaac, or I will take you down."

"Best listen to her, boys," Adam said, and kissed Hannah.

After the light-hearted playing around in the living room, I thought maybe things would be better. More back to normal. Good thing I didn't make a bet on that.

After I ate my sandwich and cottage cheese, I got up and took my plate to the sink, and started running hot water.

"Harlie was so much help this morning," Hannah said. She said it in a general way, but I knew if I looked that she

would be directing it to Adam.

"That's good," Adam said.

"It's amazing how much we got done," Hannah said.

"Good," he said again.

"So I think I'll head into town soon. Visit Marie, and let her watch the baby while I get a few things at the grocery store."

"Okay," Adam said, and got up to bring his empty plate and silverware to me. I took them from him without meeting his eye,

and put them in the hot water, pouring a generous amount of dish soap into the water.

He went to pour a cup of coffee, turning to lean against the counter.

"Since Hannah's leavin', you can head outside after you finish the dishes," Adam said, and, just the way he said it, the words

he used, well, it made me mad. Since Hannah was leaving, I needed to be outside, because why? So they could watch me? What

the heck did he think I was going to do if I was left inside by myself?

"We've got plenty of stuff outside that you can help out with," he continued talking.

I gritted my teeth so hard that my jaw hurt.

"Did you hear me?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," I said, accentuating the 'sir'. I slung more silverware into the sink, and soap bubbles splashed everywhere.

"What's your problem?" he asked, sounding genuinely puzzled.

"Nothing," I muttered.

"Harlie, I'm seriously losing patience with you," Adam said.

Ford had come to stand beside me, plate in hand, and I reached out to take it from him.

"Sorry," I said, in a clipped voice, dropping Ford's plate into the water.

"Sorry for what?" Adam asked, his voice raising.

"Sorry that I'm making you lose patience," I said, feeling sullen, and probably sounding that way, too.

"Har, come on," Ford said, low, his voice coaxing.

"Ford, you guys head on back out," Adam said, and when Ford hesitated, Adam added, "Please."

"Sure, okay," Ford said, and he and Guthrie went out of the kitchen together. Evan stood up, pushing his

chair up to the table, and went out, too, really quietly.

I still had my back to Adam, furiously washing dishes, but I could feel all their eyes on me.

"Look at me," Adam ordered.

I turned and leaned against the sink, wiping my hands on my jeans, but focusing my gaze on the wall straight

across from me, and not at any of them.

"I said to look at me," Adam said. "Not the wall."

I looked at him, feeling mutinous.

"I am really, honestly, at a loss here," Adam said. "Is this tantrum about being grounded?"

Brian had come to stand beside me, and I could feel the anger radiating off of him.

"It's not about being grounded," I said. "And I'm not having a tantrum."

"Sure seems like one to me," Adam said darkly.

Hannah had twisted in her chair at the table to look at me. "Harlie, we had a good morning together. You were fine. What's

wrong?"

I looked at Hannah, because that was easier. She, at least, wasn't glaring at me.

I decided to cut my losses. "Never mind," I said, and swung my gaze back to Adam. "I'll finish the dishes and come out."

Adam blinked at me, looking confused at my sudden catapult. "Harlie," he said, his voice grim, "You're gettin' on my last nerve."

"Good thing I didn't plan a party, then," I muttered.

"What party?" Hannah asked, getting up and coming to stand beside Brian. She looked confused.

I shrugged, thinking that I'd gone too far, and I should just shut up.

"What party?" Brian demanded, his voice level rising. "Start explaining yourself. Right now!"

"I just thought, with the way you all are acting, by having me come outside when Hannah leaves, that you just

really don't trust me at all! Like you expect I'd would have a beer party the minute I was alone in the house, or something! Or invite a twenty-five year old guy over to make out with!"

For the longest moment on earth, there was silence in the room. The air crackled with tension.

"Of course we don't think anything like that!" Hannah said, sounding upset. Even her voice level was at a six or seven.

"That's just ridiculous," she continued. "And sarcasm isn't necessary."

"I know," I said, "it just seems like you all can't even trust me the littlest bit now. Not even to be in the house alone!"

Neither Brian or Adam said anything for another moment. They were both staring at me, looking shocked and angry.

Adam ran a hand over his mouth and down his chin, as if he was trying to control his temper. When he spoke though, his

voice was quiet.

"For your information, young lady, my thought in having you come outside this afternoon was because I figured you

might be ready to get out of the house for awhile in the sunshine. I know you don't like being cooped up inside all day."

A sudden and overwhelming sense of shame washed over me. So he hadn't meant anything by what he'd said! He hadn't

been hinting that I couldn't be left alone inside the house. I'd really messed up but good this time.

I started to apologize, but Adam cut me off by saying sharply, "If you don't want to come outside, then don't. Suit yourself."

And with that, he stalked out the back door and outside, letting the back door slam behind him.

Another moment of horrible silence. I felt my face flame in shame and embarrassment.

"Harlie," Hannah said, and there was all the disappointment in the world in that one word.

"I misunderstood him," I said, in defense of myself. "I thought he meant something else."

Brian took a couple of steps closer to me, and since I was leaning against the sink and couldn't back away, he was

really, really close.

I pressed my back tighter against the counter, as if that would help me get away.

"I'm sorry!" I said.

"You finish the dishes and meet me out by the barn," Brian said. And he went out, too, slamming the door.

I looked at Hannah, feeling panic-stricken.

There was not a sign of sympathy on Hannah's face.

7


	13. Harlie with an 'ie'

Hannah left for town shortly after that, carrying Isaac and with a diaper bag slung over her shoulder. I knew she was leaving,

because she came back thru the kitchen to tell me so. Which, considering that she was put out with me too, was kind of surprising.

"Alright," she said, grabbing another bottle from the refrigerator, "I'll see you later then."

"Bye," I said, subdued, as I kept wiping the same spot on the counters, over and over.

Hannah came to stand beside me. She was quiet for a moment or two, and then she said quietly, "It's not going to help things

if you hide in here."

"I'm not hiding," I denied.

"Hmm. Well, okay. But if I were you, I wouldn't cross Brian today. Or Adam, either."

I didn't answer, and, after another couple of moments, Hannah sighed. "I'll see you later," she said again.

She was nearly at the door when I thought better of it, and turned to call after her, "Hannah?"

"What?" she asked, stopping and turning back.

"If I try to talk to them both now about-the thing that I need to tell them, well, it's just going to make things

worse!"

"Why do you think that?"

"Because it will seem like I've been lying to them, I mean really lying. Not like going to a stupid party. But something serious!"

Hannah looked solemn. "I think they do believe that going to a party with drinking is serious, Harlie."

"I know. But it will just reinforce that whole thing Adam said about not being where I was supposed to be!"

"This is sounding more worrying to me by the minute," she said, her forehead wrinkled in concern.

"I don't know what to do!" I said.

Hannah sighed again, and I suddenly felt guilty. Here she was, trying to get out of the house for an afternoon getaway, and I

was holding her up, harping on my own problems.

"I'm sorry," I told her. "I'm being selfish. Marie's probably waiting on you."

"She probably is," Hannah agreed. "I should be home before supper. If you want me to, I'll sit in while you talk to them both tonight."

"Okay. Thanks," I said.

When she'd gone, I finished tidying up the kitchen, even pushing all the chairs in straight and evenly. Anything to put off going outside. Finally,

though, I knew I couldn't avoid it any longer. I snapped off the light switch, and went out the back door, stopping long enough to

pet Gus, and scratch Warrior's ears. To Clarence, I spent the longest moment, squeezing his fat neck.

As I walked across the yard towards the barn, they all three followed me.

Brian was there, on the side of the barn, with his head under the hood of the Jeep, yet again studying the motor. It seemed like somebody

was always working on it. I knew, from listening to them all talk, that it had been leaking massive amounts of oil lately.

I stood there, off to the side a little, feeling awkward, and as if my heart was in my throat.

"Come over here," Brian said, sounding brusque, and I came forward reluctantly, leaning my hands on the Jeep, and looking at him with apprehension.

"That wasn't nice, what you said to Adam," he began by saying.

I picked at a spot on the fender, where the paint was starting to fleck off.

"He'd do anything for you kids. And he doesn't ask for much in return, either," Brian went on.

I still didn't say anything, mostly because I didn't know what to say. It would sound as if I were making excuses, and I

didn't want to do that. I just bit at my lip, and picked at the loose paint.

Brian raised his head a little to look at me. "No response?" he asked.

"I didn't want to sound as if I was making excuses for talking that way," I admitted honestly. "Every answer I can think of would

sound like an excuse."

"Hmm," he said, straightening to his full height. "Well, Adam doesn't deserve that kind of smart mouth from you."

"I'll apologize to him," I promised, really quietly. "As soon as I see him."

Brian just stood there, looking at me so intently that I was uncomfortable.

"It's our job to look after you, Harlie. And that's even when you think it's too much, or that we're too hard on you. That's the way it

is. You can fight against it, but all that's going to do is cause you grief, because we'll nail you for it. Every time. We really do know what's

best for you. And we know you're growin' up, but you're always gonna be our baby."

I chewed at my lip again, and looked down a little, my eyes filling with tears. I'd expected to come out here and have

Brian rant and rave at me, yell, and maybe even threaten to tan my backside. None of those things would have surprised

me. But having him talk this way, rational and calm, made me even more ashamed of myself. Ashamed, not just for sassing Adam

earlier in the kitchen, but for this whole long business of keeping Karissa's appearance a secret from them.

"Hey," he said, and when I looked back up at him, he said, "What are the tears for?"

"I just feel bad."

"You're not supposed to enjoy being grounded," he said.

"It's not that. I mean, I understand about that. You're making me feel ashamed, talking like you are."

When he wrinkled his forehead in question, I said, in explanation, "Talking so calm like you are. I thought you were gonna yell at me. Or something."

"Or somethin', huh?" he asked, with a raised eyebrow, knowing exactly what I meant, and I shrugged, embarrassed.

"You were pretty mad," I said.

"Yeah. Well, don't get used to my calm tone and all of that. I'm still ticked off at you. That 'somethin' you were worried about is still

a possibility." There was a warning there, if I chose to take note of it.

"Okay," I said quietly.

"Chores all done in the house?" he asked.

"There's more laundry to do. And I could vacuum."

He nodded, but didn't say anything. As he leaned back down in the engine, and started tapping on the battery cable

with a wrench, I waited, but he didn't say anything more, or tell me what he wanted me to do.

Finally, I spoke up into the silence. "Should I go do the inside stuff then?"

"Yeah. Go on."

So I went back into the quiet house. It was so quiet that I turned on the radio.

I went down to the basement, and put in the last two loads of laundry. I'd been over the entire house, picking up

clothes, and I thought this was finally it. I took a load from the dryer upstairs to fold, and put away.

I dragged the vacuum cleaner out of the closet, and vacuumed the downstairs, even pushing the couch away from the wall to

clean behind it, and moving the chairs, too.

My hair kept getting into my face, and I bundled it up into a messy bun on the top of my head.

In the midst of my cleaning frenzy, I heard the sound of an unfamiliar motor out front of the house. I went to the

front door, and opened it, looking out.

A UPS truck had pulled into the driveway, and parked alongside the front of the house. A driver, wearing brown

shorts and matching shirt, hopped out, carrying a notepad in his hand.

I looked towards the barn, but Brian was no longer in sight. I didn't see anybody else around, either. So I stopped out

onto the front porch, watching as the guy grabbed a rectangular box from the inside of the truck and started towards the house.

"Hi, there," he greeted me, when he looked up and saw me standing there.

"Hi," I said curiously. We don't ever get packages delivered by a UPS truck. I wondered if Hannah had ordered

something for the baby from J.C. Penneys or something like that.

"How are you today?" the guy asked me, coming to stand on the bottom stair and looking up at me.

"Good. How are you?" I asked politely, in return.

"Long day. I'm ready to be done." He smiled at me, and even though he was probably in his mid-twenties, he reminded

me a little of Eddie. At least his smile did.

I found myself smiling back.

"This this McFadden place?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Got a package here for-" he looked down at the label on the package, "Harley McFadden."

For me? My curiousity went up another notch.

"He around anywhere?" the driver asked.

He? Oh. It dawned on me that he thought the package was for a male. Harley.

"That's me," I said, and he grinned even wider.

"Yeah?" he asked, coming up another stair, and leaning my way a little. I realized he was flirting with me. And I didn't mind. Not at all.

"Yeah. Harlie. With an ie, instead of an ey," I said.

"Harlie. With an ie," he repeated, his smile widening. "Real cute."

Evan suddenly appeared behind me, coming out the front screen door, with a jar of peanuts in one hand.

"What's goin' on?" he asked abruptly, and both the driver and I lost our relaxed stance. He kind of straightened up, from

where he'd been leaning toward me a little, and looked at Evan.

"Just delivering a package," the driver said.

"Uh huh," Evan said.

"Here you go," the driver said, handing me the big box. Then, he gave me a careless wink. "Have a good afternoon, Harlie with

an ie."

"Bye," I said, and watched as he started his truck up and roared down the driveway.

When I turned around, clutching the box, Evan turned his gaze from the dust of the departing UPS truck, to me.

"What's that all about?" he asked.

"Huh?"

"All that flirtin', and that little wink thing goin' on," he said, sounding impatient.

"I guess he was flirting a little," I said, trying to sound casual.

"More than a little," Evan argued.

"Well. Maybe," I agreed. "No big deal, though."

"He must be close to thirty."

"Oh, Ev, he is not," I said.

Evan regarded me seriously for a moment, and then he asked, "What's in the package?"

"I don't know, silly. I haven't opened it yet," I said, hoping to distract him. I was fairly certain who the package

would be from. I mean, who else besides Karissa would be sending me a package? And from a store like Macy's? For the first time, I thought about how old

Evan would have been when Karissa had stopped coming around. I thought back. He was seven years older than me, so he would

have been around eight. He would remember her, surely. Wouldn't he? He and Daniel both would have been old enough to remember

her. I considered him seriously.

"Can I ask you something?" I asked.

"Yeah. Hurry up, though. We're only takin' a quick break."

"Who is we?" I asked him, looking thru the screen door, as I heard other voices in the house.

"Ford. Adam. Brian. Everybody," he clarified. "What do ya want to ask me?"

"Never mind," I said. There was no point in attempting a private conversation of this caliber with everyone else

within possible hearing distance.

Evan looked all serious at me. "Is this about last night?"

When I looked at him questioningly, he prompted, "The party you went to?"

"Umm, no."

"No?" he asked.

"No."

"I thought maybe that's what you wanted to talk to me about."

I looked at him curiously, not sure what he was getting at.

"Cause I seem to remember a promise you made me a few months ago," Evan continued.

Ah. Now I knew what he was driving at. I felt my face flush hot. He didn't seem to be mad, but-

"It wasn't the same thing, Evan."

"No? How come?" he challenged.

"This party was at somebody's house, not out in the middle of nowhere like the other one. And I didn't drink anything. And there

weren't a bunch of strangers there."

Evan just looked at me, appearing to be unconvinced.

"And-" I searched my mind, "I wasn't trying to worry anybody purposely, like I tried to worry you and Ford then. Lori and I just went there

for a little while. Not more than an hour."

He still stared at me intently, like he just wasn't buying it.

"Maybe two hours," I was drawn to admit.

Still silence. And a disappointed look on his face.

"I didn't drink," I said again.

"You said that already," he said drily.

"Adam doesn't believe me," I said, clutching my box tighter, and unable to keep the hurt from my voice.

Evan shrugged. "Well?" he said, without sympathy. "What do you expect?"

"So you want to write me off, too?" I asked, a little plaintively.

"Nobody's plannin' on writing you off, knothead."

"Yeah? You didn't see Adam's face earlier. He-" I hesitated, searching for the right words. "Well, he was so mad he looked

like he was going to choke, or something. He was practically turning purple. He's not going to believe anything that I say-"

"If you want people to believe you, then you have to work to be believable," Evan said, again without any apparent sympathy.

"I try to," I objected. "I'm a truthful person."

Evan gave me a "yeah, right," look.

"Well, I am mostly," I protested.

The screen door opened, and Brian stuck his head out. "What's the big pow wow about out here?" he asked.

I would have said that it was about nothing important, but that would have been a lie. And, given the topic of our conversation,

I didn't think saying anything like that would solidify my position about being truthful to Evan.

So I didn't say anything. I just looked at Evan and waited for him to answer, hoping that he wouldn't throw me under the bus, and

spill the story of my previous party attendance, complete with drinking and being out until two a.m. He'd kept quiet about it for this

long, but if he told now, well, I might as well pack my bags for an all-girl's boarding school.

Evan looked at me, and then at Brian. "Just givin' out a free lecture," he said, and I felt a sense of relief that he didn't tell.

Brian surveyed us both, and then I thought I saw a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "Huh. Well, alright then. Carry on, Ev."

When the screen door had slammed again, it was all I could do not to grit my teeth in irritation.

"Brian thinks he's a comedian," I complained.

"Never mind that. Quit complainin' about people not believing you. When you're honest 100 percent of the time, then

you can start complainin'."

"So you never told a lie when you were my age?" I accused him, an edge to my voice.

"I did. But not that often. And when I did, they always found out anyway. It wasn't worth it. Tryin' to regain

their trust was never fun."

I sighed, knowing that was what I was facing. Still, I was feeling prickly.

"Well, it was a million times easier for all you guys than it is for me," I pointed out.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Because I'm a girl. And the youngest. They're a lot harder on me, and they expect more from me, too."

Evan shook his head. "You're kidding, right?"

"No. I'm not kidding."

"That's just bullshit right there, Harlie."

"When you were my age, did you have the rules and restrictions that I have? Did they monitor every move you made? You

know they didn't. It's because I'm a girl."

Evan gave me a hard look, and I sighed.

"Great. Now you're mad at me, too," I said.

"I am not," he said, with a snap to his voice.

We stood there, looking at one another, and finally I said, "Thanks for not telling Brian what we were talking about. And about

that night, with the party and everything."

"I suppose you're welcome," he said, and turned to pull the screen door open.

"Come on, Harlie with an ie," he said, mockingly, and I jabbed him with my elbow as I walked past.

7


	14. Cheese grater run-in

When I went inside, the first thing I planned to do was take the big box up to my room before anyone besides

Evan got a look at it. Unfortunately, like many of my plans, that ran into a bit of a snag.

I don't know where Crane and Guthrie were at that particular moment, but Adam and Brian and Ford were

sprawled on the two couches, that were both still in the spots away from the walls where I'd moved them to clean.

"Doing some rearranging?" Brian asked me.

"I was vacuuming behind the couches," I said.

He nodded, and I avoided Adam's eye altogether, starting up the stairs with my box, holding it against my leg so it

wasn't so obvious.

"What was the UPS guy doin' here?" Adam asked, in a general way. "Was he lost and needing directions?"

I exchanged a look with Evan.

"Umm, no," I said. "He was dropping off a package." I lifted the package a little so it could be seen.

"One of our wives has been shopping," Brian said, in a joking way to Adam.

"Most likely yours," Adam returned, joking too.

"I'll bet you a dollar that it's yours," Brian said. "What store is it from?" he asked me then.

I already knew the answer since I'd looked at the return address.

"Macy's," I admitted.

Brian whistled. "That's pricey, right there."

Brian got up and came over to where I was standing at the foot of the stairs. "Let me see," he said, and before I could

tell him that it wasn't Clare's, or Hannah's, but mine, he was tipping the package up, and reading the label aloud.

"Harlie McFadden, 1095 Valley Road, Murphys, California."

He turned loose of the box, and looked at me.

"Wrong female, Adam. It's Harlie that's been shopping," he said.

I should have told them right then. They were both in the same room, at the same time. And Ford was there to provide

moral support, even though Karissa would come as a shock to him, too.

But I just couldn't. I looked at Brian, and then towards Adam, and I just couldn't do it. It wasn't the right time. Not while

I was standing there holding what was more than likely an expensive present in my arms. That wouldn't help my case at all.

It would make it look like Karissa was trying to 'buy' my affection. It would seem as if our relationship was extremely deep. And

that would just make my deception about her seem that much worse.

So I just sort of ducked my head at Brian, and then hurried up the stairs to put the box on my bed. I was wildly curious

about what was inside, but I didn't want to raise their suspicions, or get Adam any more angry at me for not doing

my chores.

I went back downstairs, and Brian and Adam were still sitting there, though Ford had gone. I could hear him and Evan

talking in the kitchen.

I shoved one of the chairs back into place. As I pushed at the couch that they weren't sitting on, they both stood up,

and helped me, pushing the couch back against the wall effortlessly.

"Thanks," I mumbled.

"It looks good in here," Adam said. "I know Hannah will appreciate all the cleaning you've done."

I met his eye. "Thank you," I said again, but clearly this time.

He nodded. I suddenly had the urge to keep him talking to me. "I thought I'd make tacos for supper," I offered. "Does that

sound alright to you guys?"

"Anything I don't have to cook is alright with me," Brian said.

I waited, and Adam said, "Same here. Tacos sound good."

"Okay." I was scrunching up my courage to apologize to him, for being snotty, and for thinking he had another motive for

telling me to go outside earlier, but before I could do it, he and Brian started talking, and then they went back outside together.

I went to the kitchen, feeling discouraged, and a little mad at myself for not speaking up when I had the chance. I started getting

hamburger out of the freezer, and thawing it out in the microwave, and then got out a head of lettuce and some tomatoes.

"What are you makin'?" Ford asked, with the interest of a young guy who's always hungry.

"Tacos."

"Cool," Ford said, in approval. "How about making some of those killer lemon bars of yours?"

I tried to smile at him, even though I felt so low. "I guess I can."

The phone started ringing and Evan said, "I'll get it," and went off to the living room.

"What's wrong, Har?" Ford asked, leaning against the cabinet and watching me as I started slicing up tomatoes on the cutting board.

I shrugged, and didn't answer.

"There's worse things than being grounded, you know," he said.

"I know."

"You're not gonna help your case any by dragging around and acting like you're being wrongly accused, or somethin'."

"I'm not trying to act that way. I just wish Adam would believe the part about me not drinking last night."

"He will. Wait until he cools down and try talking to him again," Ford advised.

"I have something really big to talk to him about," I said, hacking at the head of lettuce.

Just when Evan had come back into the kitchen, reporting that Hannah had called and said she was staying in town

at Marie's until later in the evening and visiting with some of the other women from church.

"I told her you were makin' supper," Evan told me. "She said to tell you thanks a lot."

"I'm glad Hannah's getting out of the house for an evening," Ford said, taking a slice of tomato and popping it in

his mouth.

"Yeah. She deserves it," Evan agreed.

When the phone rang again, Evan sighed, and went back to the living room. A moment later, he reappeared at the kitchen

doorway. "Phone for you, shortcake," he said.

I looked up from my lettuce butchering. "Who is it?"

"I dunno. Didn't ask. Sounds like that same lady that called a few days ago."

Oh. I hesitated, wondering what to do. It would be Karissa, more than likely.

"Didn't Adam say no phone when he grounded you?" Ford asked me. When I nodded, they exchanged a look.

"If that's what he said, then you'd better listen," Evan said. "No sense in gettin' yourself into more trouble."

"I'll find out who it is, and take a message for ya," he said, and started back out of the kitchen.

"No!" I said, so loudly that they both looked at me as if I'd lost my mind.

"I mean, don't ask who it is, or what they want or anything," I told him, flustered.

When Evan frowned at that, I said, "Can't you just say that I can't come to the phone? Please, Ev?"

Grumbling some words that sounded like 'crazy', Evan went back off to the telephone.

I went to the living room, to listen for myself what Evan said. Ford followed me, munching on an apple.

Evan did what I'd asked, saying that I wasn't able to come to the phone right then. I waited, while he appeared to be listening,

and then he looked a little startled, and said, "It's Evan."

When he'd hung up, he turned to Ford and I, and said, "That was weird."

My heart started pounding. What had Karissa said to him?

"What's weird?" Ford asked, around his apple.

"She asked me if it was Ford or Evan she was talking to. Then when I told her it was me, she laughed, and hung up."

They both looked at me then. "Who is it?" Evan asked.

"You didn't ask, remember?" I said, trying to deflect his questions.

"Because you told me not to ask, knothead," Evan said in response, looking irritated.

They both looked as though they were going to keep pestering me. Evan looked as though he was

intent on an answer.

"Come on, Harlie," Evan insisted. "You're actin' all squirrely about this. What's goin' on?"

"Yeah, Har. What's up?" Ford asked.

"It's somebody who knows you from when you were little," I said.

"Somebody from church that moved away?" Ford asked.

"No, not from church," I said.

"She sounded pretty loony," Evan said.

"She's not loony," I said slowly, "just a little bit strange, maybe. Different."

"Who is she?" Evan demanded.

"She's related to us," I said, facing them. "She's our aunt."

"You mean like Marie?" Ford asked, referring to the relationship we have with Marie, where she's not biologically related,

but stands in as a grandmother to us.

"No. Not like that. I mean, really related. She's mama's sister."

They both stared at me, looking confused.

"I don't remember hearin' anything about an aunt," Evan said slowly, looking thoughtful.

"You don't remember her at all?" I asked. "She used to come around, she said."

"No. I don't remember," Evan said.

"Maybe before mama died?" I asked him. "She was probably around a lot then."

Evan shook his head. "What's her name?"

"Karissa."

"I don't remember Mom talking about a sister," Evan said. "And I know I don't remember seein' her."

"What about you, Ford?" I asked, turning to him.

Ford shook his head, but I thought he looked a little funny.

There wasn't time to delve into why he looked so thoughtful, though, because Crane stuck his head in the front door

long enough to say, "Breaks over, boys. Come on!"

"We're comin'," Evan called back, and when the door slammed again behind Crane, they were both still standing there,

looking serious at me.

"How'd this happen?" Evan asked.

"She just showed up. And we started talking-"

"Showed up, like out of nowhere?" Ford asked, looking incredulous.

"Yeah. Pretty much like that," I said.

"Have you been meetin' up with this kook?" Evan demanded.

"A couple of times," I admitted, and then added, "and she's not a kook, Ev."

"The jury's still out on that one," Evan said, sounding doubtful. "And how is that being honest, Harlie? I thought honesty was your

big thing right now."

He couldn't have picked anything that pricked my conscience more.

"I wanted to hear the stories," I defended myself. "Then she asked me to wait to tell them because she said

they hate her. And then-it just seemed to get bigger and bigger, until it got away from me."

"Why would they hate her?" Ford asked.

"She says there was just lots of misunderstandings. They thought she wanted to take over, or something, and she says they

were stubborn, and full of themselves."

"Come on, Evan," Ford said, defending me, "you can see how confusing it was for her."

"Yeah. I guess," Evan conceded.

"You're not going to tell them, are you?" I implored him.

"No."

Before I could sigh in relief, he added, "You are. Tonight."

"I've been trying to figure it out! There's just never a right time!" I told him.

"Well, tonight will have to be the right time," Evan said firmly.

"Evan's right," Ford said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "You can't carry this around by yourself anymore."

"Okay," I said, secretly relieved that they were taking charge of the situation. I leaned my head against Ford's chest for a minute.

We were all startled by Brian's roar as he burst thru the front door. "Hey, you deadbeats! You don't belong to a union,

you know. Back to work!" Brian stopped at the sight of all three of us, huddled there together in the living room, obviously involved in an intense conversation.

"I forgot my gloves," he said, by way of explanation for coming back inside, and grabbed his leather work gloves off

the coffee table where he'd left them. He surveyed all three of us, his forehead wrinkled questioningly.

"Everything alright in here?" he asked, his voice concerned.

"Yeah," Evan said. "Except Harlie has somethin' she needs to talk to you about. You and Adam."

"Okay," Brian said slowly, and took a couple steps closer to us. "After supper? Or now?"

Evan and Ford both looked at me, giving me the chance to decide.

"After supper is okay," I said, in a small voice.

Brian nodded, and Ford patted my back and followed Evan and Brian outside.

I went back to the kitchen, and finished frying up the hamburger. Setting that aside, I got out the ingredients for

Ford's lemon bars, and mixed them up, putting them into the oven. I finished chopping the tomatoes, lettuce and onions, and

left them all on the cutting board. I got a big bowl down from the cabinet, and got out a block of cheese and the grater and

started grating the cheese into the bowl.

Involved as I was with my own thoughts, and dread of the evening ahead, I was careless, and scraped the tips of my

fingers on the grater. The side of my index finger caught the worst of it, and blood began to run down my hand.

"Bat shit!" I cursed, and moved the bowl of cheese away from the harm of blood.

I stepped over to the sink, and turned on the faucet, letting the cold water run over my hand. I was still standing there,

watching blood run down the drain along with the water, when the back door opened, and Adam came in.

"Hey," he said, letting the screen door slap shut behind him.

"Hey," I said, without turning from the sink.

He went to the refrigerator and got out the pitcher of tea, coming over to pull a glass from the cabinet.

"Hannah's stayin' in town for awhile," he said.

"Yeah. Evan told me."

Adam gave a look around at the meal preparations. "It looks like you've got supper under control in here."

"Yeah," I said, still holding my hand under the water.

Noticing for the first time what I was doing, Adam stepped closer. "What happened?"

"I wasn't paying attention to what I was doing."

"Did you cut it with that butcher knife?" he asked, looking towards the large knife laying on the cutting board, and sounding

alarmed. "Let me see."

As he started to take my hand to look at it, I said, "No, it's just from the cheese grater."

"Oh, okay," he said, sounding relieved. He held my hand up a little, while the blood was still running from it. "You still

managed to do some damage, didn't you?"

"I guess," I said, and he looked at me for a moment, and then let go of my hand. "Keep holdin' it under there," he said,

and while I held it under the water, he went to take down the first aid kit from the top cabinet.

"Is the bleeding slowin' down any?" he asked.

"I think so," I said, holding my hand up to look at it.

Adam reached over to turn off the water, and then handed me a paper towel.

I dried my hand and he took it in one of his hands, and put antibiotic ointment on my finger and knuckles and then

put a large bandaid over the worst part of the finger.

As he was doing that, he said, "Brian says you want to talk to us right after supper."

I didn't want to. I needed to. But I didn't say that.

I nodded, and said nothing, keeping my eyes on what he was doing with my hand and the bandaid.

"Is this to talk about what's been workin' over your insides the last few days?" he asked, referring to the fact that he knew I'd been bothered lately by something.

"Yes, sir," I said, still not looking at him.

"Sir, huh? This must be somethin' major," Adam said lightly, and I looked up at him.

I was quiet, though, biting at my lip.

Adam put the first aid kit away, and shut the cabinet door, turning back to me.

"Alright, then," he said. He stood there a moment or two longer, and then finished his glass of tea in one long swig, and went back

outside without saying anything more.

7


	15. Tacos and the Talk

I had the meat hot and all the taco ingredients set on the table in bowls by the time my brothers all started streaming into the house, via the back door. I'd even finished grating the cheese, despite my previous encounter with the cheese grater.

I'd made some sun tea earlier and had it setting in the center of the table. The pan with Ford's lemon bars was next to it.

I was in the process of setting plates around the table at each person's spot, as they all came in, washing up at the sink, and talking amongst themselves.

"I forgot to tell you that Mrs. Stevens called last night, and said she needed to switch your tutoring time to tomorrow afternoon

instead," Crane told me, pausing behind me, on his way to his chair.

"Oh. Okay." I hadn't even thought about why she hadn't come for tutoring. The time had come and gone, and my mind had been too occupied with my own problems to notice.

"How'd you do on that essay for your English night class?" he asked.

I stopped setting plates down to look at him. "I turned it in Wednesday night. She might give them back this week."

He nodded. "I'd like to read it, when you do get it back."

"I've got a rough draft you can read, if you want," I told him.

"Sure. Sounds good," he said, and went on to his spot at the table.

I kept setting the plates at chairs, hoping that Crane would still want to read my essay after he'd heard what I had to

say about Karissa.

With both Hannah and Clare's chairs vacant, the talk at the table was mostly ranch stuff, drifting into

places that Hannah would have said wasn't appropriate table conversation. Even Clare would have said something like, "Okay, guys, I'm eating. Change the subject."

But, without them there, I didn't try to change the talk that was going on. It didn't bother me, for one thing. I'd grown

up around such talk at the table. For another thing, it's not as if they'd take any notice of anything I said anyway.

I don't know why, but the thought suddenly came to me of Karissa, and her reaction to the talk, if she'd been sitting there. She'd be horrified, I was sure. It would reinforce the opinion she had of ranch life. That my brother were just a bunch of uncouth rednecks.

I wondered, though, if she would ever sit at our table for a meal, as a welcomed guest. I hoped so.

After supper, while Crane and Evan did the dishes, I went to Evan's room, to talk to Captain Jack. He peered thru the cage at me, and started hopping on one foot. I liked to think that he recognized me.

"Ford's the boss! Ford's the boss!" he started squawking, dancing on his perch.

I had to smile at that. "You hateful old bird," I told him. "You're black-hearted, you know that?"

I was considering whether or not to take the risk of trying to pet him, when Ford appeared in the open doorway.

"Hey, don't be callin' my bird names like that," he told me.

"Your bird, huh?" I challenged.

Ford shrugged and grinned, and I said, "Well, I guess he is kind of your bird now, isn't he?"

"Especially," I added, giving him a poke, "since you've obviously worked so hard to teach him to say those crazy things."

"What crazy things?" Ford asked, pretending offense.

"You know what," I told him. "Ford's the boss! Ford's the boss!" I mocked.

"Truth, truth," Ford said.

I sat down on the edge of his bed. His bed, since it was neatly made up, while Evan's was a jumble of blankets and extra clothes.

I pulled my knees up, and wrapped my arms around them, watching as Ford opened the cage, and Captain Jack walked right out onto Ford's arm.

I'd only ever seen one other person able to handle Captain Jack like that, and that had been Doc G.

"How about that?" Ford asked proudly.

"I'm truly amazed," I said, and I meant it.

Guthrie came in and flopped down beside me. "What's goin' on?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Just watching Ford perform miracles with Captain Jack."

"Hey, Ford, let's hear him say some of those swear words he's learned at college," Guthrie encouraged, grinning.

We were laughing at that, when Brian appeared in the doorway.

"Come on downstairs, Harlie."

He turned and went back down the hall without waiting to see if I was following. I sighed, and stood up,

pulling my shirt down in the back.

"I'll come down with ya," Guthrie said, and I nodded at him in appreciation.

"You come too, Ford," I begged.

"Okay. After I put Captain Jack away, I'll be down," Ford said.

When we went down the stairs, Brian and Adam were sitting in the living room, on opposite couches, both with a beer

in their hands.

Guthrie sat down on the other end of Brian's couch, and I sat on the edge of the oversized chair.

"How's your hand?" Adam asked me.

My hand hurt from the run-in with the cheese grater. But, I'd had much worse injuries in the past.

"It's okay," I said.

I didn't say anything at first, looking at them both, and trying to think of the best way to open the

conversation. Should I blurt it straight out, or go into it the long way, with lots of preparation?

"So. What's up?" Brian asked finally.

I opted for the long way.

"When I was working at the Dari Kurl, there was this lady who was there one afternoon. I'd never seen her before, but

she knew who I was."

They looked at me, waiting. Crane came from the kitchen, and sat down beside Adam, quiet.

"She said that I looked just like my mom." I said that quietly, and then I was silent. They were all three

looking, not puzzled exactly, just more as if they were waiting for the zinger, or the point.

"Just tell them, Har," Guthrie spoke up.

I knew he was right. No sense to prolonging it.

"It's mama's sister," I said.

The old saying? The one about where 'you could have heard a pin drop'? That's what it was like in our living room for the

next few moments.

"What are you talkin' about?" Brian demanded. Which I thought was sort of a silly question.

"Mama's sister. Karissa," I clarified.

Into the stunned silence, I added, "Aunt Karissa."

I waited for them to deny it. For them to say there was no such person. That this person had to be a 'kook' as Evan suggested.

That, when I told them about all those photo albums upstairs in my room, that they would

say she must have got them another way, that she was a fraud who stole other people's pictures, and said that they were her own. That our mother hadn't had a sister at all. All of that.

I think that subconsciously I sort of hoped they would say any or all of those things. As much as I wanted a connection to my mom, if all this was on the up and up, that would mean that they had kept a family member from me. And Guthrie. And Ford.

But they didn't say any of those things at all. They looked at one another. Deep, revealing looks exchanged between the three of them, and then Adam said, "Mom had a sister. They weren't close. But it wasn't Karissa that she went by."

He looked at Brian for help. "What was it, Brian?"

Brian had that edgy look to his face, the sign that he's starting to simmer about something. "Hell, I don't remember. It's been fifteen years!"

"Margaret," Crane said quietly, and everybody looked at him.

"Yeah. That's it," Adam agreed, and turned back to me. "It was Margaret. So, this woman just showed up at the Dari Kurl?"

I nodded, and Brian said, "What the hell is she doin'? Probably it's just somebody pretending to

know Mom."

"No," I hurried to explain. "It really is her, Brian. She said she wasn't sure how to approach me. Or to approach you guys, I mean."

Brian gave a humph which I took to mean that he disagreed.

"She said she just happened to be at the Dari Kurl to get a drink or something. She didn't know I was going to be

there."

They clearly didn't believe that, by the expressions on their faces.

"That's bullshit," Brian said.

Adam raised a hand to halt Brian's tirade. "Hold on a minute, Brian." He turned to me, leaning forward, his arms resting

on his knees, and his hands clasped.

"What happened then?" he asked me.

"We talked-she told me about when Mom was a little girl, and then she said she tried to be around when we were little."

"Tried to be around!" Brian expostulated, and stood up, pacing back and forth.

"What about after that night?" Adam asked me.

I bit my lip, looking at Guthrie. Guthrie gave me the smallest nod of his head.

"She came by school a couple of times," I said.

"You saw her, too?" Adam asked Guthrie.

"Yeah," Guthrie said. "At the school."

"And that's all?" Adam asked me, looking at me so intently that I felt like squirming. When I hesitated, he said,

"That's not all, is it, Harlie?" in a sort of disappointed voice.

"No," I admitted, barely above a whisper.

"This is the time to be tellin' us," he said.

"She met me before my class Wednesday night," I said.

"That's why you didn't stay to eat at Lori's," he said, more a statement than a question.

I didn't answer, and he went on. "Did you even go to class that night?"

"Yes, Adam, I did!" I suddenly, desparately, wanted him to believe me.

"We went to eat, and then I went to class." I saw no point in telling them that supper had been all the way to Modesto, or that I'd missed half of the class.

"And then, afterwards, she was waiting in the parking lot, and she gave me some stuff-"

"What stuff?" Brian demanded, looking angry. "What are you doin', taking things from somebody you don't even know?"

"Photo albums, Bri," I said. "It was pictures. Of Mom, when she was growing up."

"Oh," Brian said, but he didn't appear to be all that mollified.

I thought about just skipping the part about the gift of the cashmere sweater. But Hannah knew about it, and she would

expect me to have told them. Things were bad enough, I thought. I didn't want them hearing it from Hannah.

"And a sweater," I added quickly.

"A sweater," Adam said, slowly, deliberately, as if he was thinking.

"Yes. A sweater."

"Why would she give you a sweater?" Brian asked.

Another silly question.

"Because she wanted to be nice, I guess. I don't know," I said vaguely.

"This is crazy," Brian said, starting to pace again. "It's just insane."

"Maybe not," Crane said, quietly.

"You remember, Crane," Brian said, in protest, stopping long enough to look at Crane. "You remember how it was."

"Yeah. I remember," Crane said.

What was it that they all remembered? What Crane remembered as a twelve year old? Before I could ask any of the questions that I had, Adam said, "What did she have to say?"

"This should be good," Brian muttered.

"Why'd she show up now?" Crane asked.

"She said she's lonely," I said, "and that she doesn't have any family, and that she'd like to have a relationship with

all of us."

A look of disbelief from all three of them.

"Now, that is bullshit, right there," Brian told me. "She didn't say any such thing."

How did he know that?

"Is that what she really said, Harlie?" Adam asked me.

"She said she's lonely. And that she doesn't have any family."

"And?" Brian prompted me, with a raised eyebrow.

"And that she wants to have a relationship with me," I admitted. "But I know she wants to make things right with you guys."

They were quiet for another moment or so, and then Adam said, sounding irritated, "For God's sake, Brian, stop pacing back and forth like that!"

Brian grumbled under his breath, but went to sit back down, picking up his beer, and taking another drink.

Ford came down the stairs and into the living room, standing off to the side, near the fireplace, being quiet and

looking serious.

There was such a long, uncomfortable silence in the room that I looked towards Guthrie, and he read my unspoken plea.

"Har didn't know what to do," Guthrie said in my defense. "She didn't know how to handle it."

"Then you should have told her exactly how to handle it," Brian snapped, and Guthrie looked hurt.

"Don't yell at Guthrie," I said stoutly. "It's not his fault. Not at all. He told me to tell you guys!"

"Then why didn't you?" Adam said.

"I was waiting for the right time," I said, and knew instantly that I had said the wrong thing.

"The right time?" Adam asked, and then repeated the words, as if he couldn't quite believe that I'd

said something so foolish. "The right time."

"I told you days ago that I wanted to talk to you both!" I defended myself.

"That's true," he conceded. "And I'll take responsibility for not following thru Thursday night, with the

cow and calf, and everything. But Friday morning? Friday night? What about those?"

"We could have had this conversation last night instead of you goin' to some damn party," Brian

said, sounding disgusted. And mad. Very mad.

"Well, we're having it now," I said, even though I knew I shouldn't. Because it was a smart-ass type of

answer.

"Harlie Marie," Brian said, "You do not want to take that tone with me. Trust me, you do not."

"Alright. I'm sorry," I said, caving instantly.

"Sorry for what?" he demanded. "Sorry for bein' a smart ass? Or sorry for lyin' about this whole thing, and

hidin' it from us? Slipping behind our backs to see her?"

Wow. He was majorly winding up. This was not going well. Not at all.

"I've been feeling bad about it," I said, honestly. "I didn't like keeping it from you all. I wanted to tell you,

because I was excited about it! I wanted to ask you about what happened between you and Karissa, and

I wanted to keep seeing and talking to her, too, because she knows things. Things that I want to know."

There, I thought. That explained it all, in a very mature manner. That should smooth things over. Umm, no.

"Well, you can forget about seein' her," Brian said. "Or even talkin' to her, for that matter. You're to

stay away from her, Harlie."

I stared at him, stunned. Stunned that he'd shut me down like that. Stunned that he was so vehement.

"Is that honestly all that you got out of what I just said?" I asked him. "I told you that I didn't like keeping

it from you, that I want to talk to her because she knows things, things that I've never known before!"

"And I told you no," Brian said, and took a drink from his beer, setting the bottle down so hard on the table

that I was surprised it didn't break.

I turned to Adam, appealing to him. "Adam?"

"There's a lot that you kids don't know," Adam said. "Brian's right to be concerned-"

I stood up, so agitated that I was shaking. "Then tell me! Tell me what it is that we don't know!"

Adam leaned forward, lacing, and then unlacing his fingers, back and forth, together, then apart.

"Sit down, Harlie," he said, and it wasn't a request. More of an order.

I sat again, perched on the edge of the chair.

"She wasn't good for you kids," Adam said, slowly, sounding tense. "She had problems."

"She drank wine, and you guys didn't like it," I said. "I know. She told me. I don't see the big deal."

Brian's eyes glittered. "Oh, you don't, huh?" he asked, dangerously quiet.

"No," I said, and then lest I be accused of being disrespectful again, I added, "I mean, you guys

drink, too."

A quick look of hurt passed over Adam's face.

"I'm not trying to be rude or anything," I said, trying to explain. "I'm just trying to understand!"

"It's not the same thing at all," Crane said. "A beer now and then isn't the same as what happened with

Margaret, or Karissa, or whatever name she's going by now."

"Well, what did happen?" Guthrie asked, and I was glad he was joining in the conversation.

Adam and Brian and Crane exchanged a long look and then Adam said, "She went to pick Ford up at

school, and she'd been drinking. She drove him all around, and we didn't know where he was. She ended up

smashing into the fence out by the barn."

I looked at Ford, and his face was sort of funny looking. Pale.

He came over and sat down between Brian and Guthrie. Brian reached out and put a hand on the back of

Ford's neck. "Poor Beans," he said, calling Ford by an old nickname, "He was shook up, even though he

didn't know what was really happening."

"I think I remember part of it," Ford said quietly. "I was in kindergarten, right?"

"Yeah. It was a few months after-" Adam hesitated, "after the accident."

I bit my lip and sat back in the chair, tucking my feet under me.

"She didn't tell me that," I said.

"No surprise there," Brian said. "She never liked to own up to her mistakes."

There was a little silence then, and the sound of a car driving in.

"Hannah's home," Adam said, and got up to go to the door, opening it, and stepping out onto the

porch. Hannah came in, her arms full of a blanket covered Isaac.

"Hello, everybody," she said, as Adam followed, a sack of groceries in each arm.

"Are there more groceries to bring in?" Ford asked her.

"Yes, sweetheart," Hannah told him. "Thank you."

Ford got up and went outside. Adam headed towards the kitchen with the food, and when Ford came

in, he followed.

Hannah sat down on the couch, unwrapping Isaac from his blankets.

Obviously feeling the tension in the room, she said quietly, "Big talk, huh?"

Nobody answered her, except for Crane, who nodded at her, and said, "Yep."

Isaac was sleeping, and she pressed him against her chest, patting his back gently, as Adam and Ford

came back from the kitchen.

Hannah turned to me. "Are you sharing everything with them, sweetie?" she asked, and I knew she

meant the sweater.

"Yes," I said.

"I'll take Scooter up to bed," Guthrie said, and took the baby from Hannah, going up the stairs.

Adam sat down beside Hannah, taking her hand in his, while Ford stood where he was, his hands in

his pockets.

"Evan said he doesn't remember Karissa," I said.

"He and Daniel were probably at school when she was around, or at a neighbor's house," Crane said,

by way of explanation. "They used to go over to the Peterson's after school a lot back then. That way I had a chance

to do my homework, and start supper."

I sat there, feeling compassion for that twelve year old kid that Crane had been, who'd had to give up his childhood so suddenly.

"You could have used the help, though," I pointed out. "If she hadn't been drinking like that, would

you have let her help with us?"

Brian shook his head, but didn't say anything. Adam said, "There's a lot more to it than just that."

"Well, what?" I asked.

"She wasn't around before the accident. We didn't even know her. And then suddenly, in the midst of

all the chaos and the grief-she showed up. Trying to take over," Adam said.

I wrinkled my forehead, puzzled. "You mean she didn't come visit Mom when you were growing up? You and

Brian?"

Adam shook his head in answer, and Brian said, "We never saw her but once or maybe twice in all those

years. Right, Adam?"

Adam nodded again in agreement.

"But why?" I asked, as Guthrie came back down the stairs and sat down on the couch again.

"I don't know, Harlie," Adam said, sounding tired.

"Was it because her and daddy didn't like each other?" I asked then.

"I don't know," Adam said, again.

"She said Grandpa didn't want mama and daddy to get married, that Grandpa didn't like

dad," I said, and then felt the tension crackling in the air.

"She told you that?" Adam asked, dangerously quiet.

I leaned back in the chair a little, subsiding.

"All the stories that mom told us growing up, were about how much grandpa did like dad," Adam

said.

"Oh," I said, in a small voice.

"Tell her the rest," Brian said, and I looked at him questioningly.

"The rest of what?" I asked.

Adam stood up, and went to the window, pulling the curtains back a little to look out. He was silent.

Brian stood up, too, clasping his hands behind his head. He looked at Ford and Guthrie, and then

said quietly, "She didn't give a hoot about the boys. She wanted you, Harlie. Just you."

I felt pained for Ford and Guthrie, sitting right there, listening.

"Why?" I asked.

"Who knows?" Brian said, dropping his arms to his sides.

"Well, but you said she went to pick Ford up that day at school," I reminded him. "And she told

me that she tried to see all three of us-"

"Get it thru your head that she's a liar, Harlie," Brian snapped. "We didn't even know she was gonna pick Ford up that day. He didn't show up on the bus, and we

got frantic."

"She wanted a little princess to dress up like a doll, and carry around to show off," Adam said,

from his stance at the window.

I knew from what Karissa had told me that she had thought the guys wanted to just let me grow

up as "one of the boys". I wanted to ask them about that, but I didn't feel like I should right then.

Adam turned from the window and came back over closer to the rest of us. He jammed his

hands in his pockets. "She called social services, and told them we shouldn't have you younger three kids, that we weren't

taking proper care of you all."

There was a long, tense moment, where Ford and Guthrie and I exchanged a look.

"Well, that's just crazy," Guthrie said, sounding angry. "You guys did fine."

"Yeah. Where'd she get that idea from?" Ford asked.

"I don't really know," Adam said, with a sigh. "I mean, what Brian and I did with you kids, it wasn't up to par with what mom and dad

would have done, but it was nothing for social services to intervene on."

"So they let it go?" I asked. "Social services?"

"They came over a couple of times to talk to us, and look around, but then they let it go, yeah," Adam said.

"It's not somethin' that you just get over, though," Brian added. "We were scared for a long time after that. Looking over our shoulders and

expecting you kids to be taken away."

"I'm sorry that happened to you guys," Ford said, his voice raspy with emotion. "With everything that you were trying to deal with, and then to have that happen, too, well,

it just-" he stopped talking for a moment. "It wasn't right," he said.

Several long moments passed.

"No, it wasn't right," I said, echoing Ford's statement. "I think she feels badly about everything that happened."

Total silence. Tense. Uncomfortable. Awkward.

I felt as though I had to make them understand how things were.

"I liked talking to her," I said. They were all watching me with silent, serious expressions.

"I mean, I do like talking to her," I added.

"Well, that's over and done," Brian said, with finality, and I felt my heart sink. I looked to Adam, hoping

that he would interject some disagreement to Brian's statement. I was disappointed by that hope, because

Adam stood there, saying nothing.

"What about you, Adam?" I asked him. "Do you agree with that, too?"

"Yeah. With not knowing what she's thinking, or planning, I think you should curtail any contact with her. At least until we talk," Adam said.

"You mean you'll talk to her?" I asked hopefully. "All of you?"

"I meant that Brian and Crane and I would talk," Adam said. "And Hannah, too."

My heart sank further.

"So you won't talk to her at all?" I asked him, so disappointed that I felt like crying.

"I don't have any plans right now to talk to her, no."

"That's not even fair!" I said.

"Let's just sleep on it, mull it over for a few days, and then we can talk again," Adam said.

"I never would have thought you guys would be so unfair," I said. "To not even give a person

a chance!"

"Harlie," Hannah said, her tone reproachful.

I looked at Hannah, taking note of her expression. It was her 'think before you speak' look

that she gives me. I let my glance flitter away from hers.

"You can think it's unfair," Adam said, still quietly. "But you need to obey me."

I stood up, feeling frustration to the tips of my toes. "What happened to giving people a second

chance when they mess up?" I demanded. "She's probably an entirely different person than she used

to be!"

"A leopard doesn't change their spots," Brian said darkly.

"Maybe this leopard did!" I insisted, my voice raising.

"Har, just drop it for right now," Ford spoke up. Sweet Ford. Ever the peacemaker.

"Just calm down," Ford added, for good measure. But I turned away from his warning glance, too.

"I just don't feel good about it," Adam said. "I wouldn't feel safe about you meetin' up with her."

"So the conversation is over, then?" I asked, shortly. "Just like that?"

"For right now, yeah," Adam said.

I stalked past them all, to the kitchen, where I slammed things around, getting out my shot

supplies. I jabbed myself so quickly that it was painful, and I said, "Damn it to hell!" loud enough

that they could have heard me, if they'd been listening. I didn't care.

After that I went up the back stairs, and to my room. I pulled out all the photo albums that

Karissa had given me, laying them on my bed, and sat and looked thru the first one. Most of the pictures were

of my mom, some along with her parents, and another older couple, who I supposed might be

my great grandparents.

After awhile, I went to take a shower, grumbling and bitching to myself the whole time I was under the hot water. When

I went back to my room, rubbing my wet hair with a towel, the door was open, as I'd left it, and

Adam was sitting there, on my bed, one of the photo albums open in his hands, as he flipped thru

the pages.

7=love


	16. Daniel thru the telephone wire

Adam looked up from the photo album in his hand as I stopped there in the doorway, surprised

to see him sitting there.

"Sure is a lot of pictures here," he said quietly.

I looked back at him, not saying anything for a moment. I came on into my room, laying the towel

in my hand over the back of the chair in the corner.

"Are you going to say I can't keep them?" I asked him, a little defensively. "That I have to give them back?"

In the instant following my question, I saw a look cross Adam's face that I couldn't remember

ever seeing before. At least not exactly like this.

It wasn't anger. And it wasn't hurt. At least it wasn't totally either of those two things. I think it was

more disappointment. Sort of shocked.

"Of course not," he said, sounding strange. "What kind of a low snake do you think I am, Harlie?"

There was no denying the hurt I saw in his face now.

"I don't think that," I said quickly.

"Hmm," he said, and closed the album he held. "I hope not."

He regarded me seriously for a long moment, and still with that same strange edge to his voice, said,

"These pictures are real important to you, aren't they?"

I nodded wordlessly.

"I can understand that," he said, and I thought that it sounded as if he were choosing his words

with care.

Part of the pent-up emotions inside of me softened at his comment.

"I just want to know more about mama, Adam," I said.

He nodded, and laid the photo album in his hand down gently on top of the others.

"I can understand that, too," he said.

He stood up, and came to stand in front of me.

"You might not think so, but I get what you're feeling, with all of this," he said.

I held my breath, looking up at him. Maybe he'd had a change of heart already. Maybe he was

getting ready to tell me I could call Karissa, and that she could come over to the house.

"As ticked off as you are right now with me, and with Brian, I still expect you to listen to what

I said," he told me, and I felt the disappointment crush down my momentary hope.

I guess he could read the unspoken argument in my face, because he took my chin in his hand, holding

it still, so that I had to look up at him, and not away.

"You're to mind me, Harlie." There was no mistaking the authority in his voice. After a moment, he

added, "Understood?"

"Understood," I said.

He released my chin, and sighed a little. "Okay."

He paused at the door, as I went to sit down on the bed.

"I know we haven't done the best at helping you learn things about mom. I'll try to do better

with that. Alright?" he said.

"Alright," I said.

"Goodnight, sugar," he said.

"Goodnight," I managed, and Adam went out, closing the door behind him.

I looked at the photo albums for a long time before I turned off the light to go to sleep. As I did go to

sleep, my last thoughts were of how aggravated I was at Adam. And at Brian. And I wasn't any too happy with

anybody else in the house, either.

Well, except for Clare. She was innocent in all of this. And Guthrie. I wasn't mad at him. But everybody else.

Even Ford. Telling me to calm down like he had. I wouldn't be making him any more lemon bars anytime soon.

7

When I did fall asleep, I slept hard. Like a log, is the old saying. I didn't dream, or wake up in the night

or anything.

I woke up, and stretched. There were small house noises, but nothing like what you'd expect,

for a Sunday morning, with nine other people besides me up and getting ready for church.

When I looked at my alarm clock and saw the time I was surprised, because it meant that I'd been

left to sleep, and not gotten up for church.

I got up, and pulled on a pair of jeans, and a t-shirt that boasted 'Round Robin finalist', left over

from Evan or Ford's 4-H days.

I brushed my hair, and made two braids, letting them hang down over the front of my shoulders. I

put on a wide headband to keep the fuzzy curls from springing up around my face, and went down

the stairs in my bare feet, carrying my socks.

The living room was devoid of McFaddens, and when I went into the kitchen, it was to find

Clare sitting at the kitchen table, by herself, nibbling on a piece of toast, and looking at some sort

of medical magazine.

"Hey, little one," she greeted me.

"Hi," I answered, going to pull a coffee cup down from the cabinet, and pouring myself a full

cup of coffee. "You didn't get up for church either, huh?"

"Nope. Brian told me to sleep this morning. It was after midnight when I got home from the hospital

last night. There's some eggs and stuff there on the stove for you."

The eggs and 'stuff' were slices of already-buttered toast, and bacon. I scooped some eggs

onto a plate, took a piece of toast, and a couple slices of bacon, and sat down next to her, so therefore,

technically in Guthrie's seat.

Clare pushed the magazine aside. "It seems like forever since we've gotten to talk," she said. "How are

you?"

I shrugged. "Didn't Brian tell you all of the loveliness that happened around here last night?"

"He might have," she said, and then gave me a pinch to my cheek that didn't really hurt. "But I'm

asking you."

So I told Clare about Karissa, and how I'd been feeling, having a connection to my mother that I'd never

had before. I was able to be totally honest with Clare, like I am with Guthrie. I didn't have to worry

that she was going to interrupt me, or get angry at anything I said, or think I was being rude or

any of that. It was a relief, really.

Clare listened in relative silence, drinking her juice, and only making occasional murmurings of

'hmm' or 'wow'.

I finished my breakfast, and drank my coffee, beginning on my second cup. Clare and I were

still sitting there at the table, our heads together, and still talking. I was so involved in

conversation that I didn't hear the back door open. I didn't know he was standing there, next to the

coffeepot, until I heard his voice.

"Looks like a deep conversation, right here," Brian said.

I was so started that I jumped a little, jostling my cup of coffee.

I looked up and towards Brian, and then at Clare, a trifle accusingly.

"I thought everybody was at church," I said to her, in a low voice.

Clare shrugged, and looked a little apologetic. "Not Brian," she said, with a smile.

"Ready for our ride?" Brian asked her.

"I've just been sitting here, talking to Harlie, so I haven't gotten the dishes done up," Clare told

him.

I stood up, picking up my plate and cup. "I'll do the dishes," I told her. "You can go for a ride."

"Thanks, but I don't want to stick you with all of them-" Clare began.

"It's alright," I told her, setting my plate down by the sink, and starting the water running.

"Well, okay," Clare said, and went to look at the dishwashing chore list on the refrigerator. "You're on

for tomorrow night. I'll do your turn then. Okay?"

"Okay," I agreed, and started clearing off the table, while the sink filled with hot water.

"I'll go grab my jacket," Clare said, and when she'd left the kitchen, I carried a stack of plates

and silverware over to the sink and set them in the steaming water. I had my back turned, but I could hear the

sounds of Brian pouring himself a cup of coffee, and then, even though I wasn't looking, I could feel his eyes

on my back. If I'd had the nerve, I would have turned to meet his eye, straight on. But I didn't feel

that courageous right at that particular moment.

"How about you and I go for a ride later today?" he asked.

I recognized his offer for the olive branch that it was. But I was still feeling persnickety, so I

shrugged, without turning around.

I knew I had to answer though, or risk his wrath. "I've got a lot of homework," I said, kind of curtly. "And tutoring."

There was a lonnnnng moment of silence, and then he said, "Okay."

That was it. 'Okay'. No temper. No lecture on attitude. No coaxing me to go for that ride. Then, contrary, like

a little kid, I wished that he'd coaxed me a little more.

"Ready?" Clare asked, breezing into the kitchen, and carrying her jacket.

"Yep," Brian said, and they headed out the back door.

"See you later, little one," Clare told me.

"See you," I said, in response.

I did the dishes, and wiped off the table and counter tops. I went outside to feed the three goats, and then fed all the dogs, too, while I

was at it. All of the dogs can eat together, except for Jethro, who has to have his own bowl. For some reason, Gus is fine with sharing with

Warrior and Clarence, but he draws the line at sharing a bowl with Jethro Bodine.

After that I went inside, and got out all my homework, spreading it over Crane's desk. I got down to work, finishing up what I'd been behind

on earlier in the week, leaving only my math homework so Mrs. Stevens could help me thru it.

When I was done, I got up and stretched, checking the clock. Everybody would be getting home within the hour. I didn't know what Hannah

had planned for lunch. I decided not to worry about it. I'd gone to all that trouble last night to fix tacos and dessert, and it hadn't made

Adam soften any about my grounding, or about talking to Karissa.

I knew that was a really bad attitude to take, since the grounding and the situation with Karissa had nothing to do with whether or not

I fixed my family a meal. But I still felt stubborn about it. Offering to do the dishes earlier, well that had been for Clare's benefit.

So I kept on with my homework, working on stuff for my night class, and studying for the upcoming test.

When the phone started ringing, I hesitated, eyeing it, and trying to decide whether to answer or not. At this point, I wouldn't put it

past Adam to call the house, just to see if I would go against his orders, and pick up the phone. I knew that I had reached the point beyond ridiculous in my thinking

with that, but I didn't care.

I didn't answer, and then the answering machine picked up on the fourth ring.

"Hey, family," Daniel's voice came across the phone wire. "Anybody around?"

Well, I was up in a flash, and snatching up the receiver.

"Hey!" I said, a little breathless.

"Hey, squirt! I didn't know if anybody would be home or not."

"Just me. Everybody's at church."

"Ahh. What're you up to?"

"Homework. When are you coming home?"

"I'm not sure. Pretty busy right about now."

I sighed. "It figures."

"What's wrong?" he asked me.

I sat down on the bottom step of the stairs, picking at a hangnail. "Nothing."

"Gonna make me drag it out of ya, huh?"

"I just miss you," I said.

"I miss you, too. I'd come if I could, squirt."

"I know." I felt tears welling up in my eyes. I didn't know exactly why. I guess it was hearing Daniel's voice.

"Can I come see you?" I asked. "Like for a long weekend, maybe?"

"Well," he said slowly, sounding considering. "That'd be great. But what about school?"

"I could miss a couple of days," I said carelessly. "My grades are good."

"You and Crane are still coming out for your spring break, aren't you?"

"That's like six weeks away!" I protested.

"It'll pass fast."

"You mean you're not coming home at all before then?" I demanded, my voice raising.

"Well, I don't know for sure yet," he said.

"So you're saying that I can't come visit you. Right?" I asked him, feeling emotional.

"I don't think Adam would want you coming all this way on a bus by yourself-" Daniel began.

"Okay. Whatever," I said, crossly.

"What's your problem?" he asked. "You don't need to get mouthy."

"Haven't you heard?" I said, feeling even more like crying. "I am a smart mouth. And a liar. Most especially a liar!"

"What the heck are you talkin' about?" Daniel demanded.

I took a deep breath, trying to get control of my emotions.

"Nothing," I said. "Never mind."

"You can't just flip out on me, and then say it's nothing," he protested.

"Don't worry about me, Daniel," I said, feeling morose. "You're busy. You shouldn't be worried about me."

"Well, I do worry about you. Now just take a deep breath, and tell me what's goin' on in that head of yours."

"Nothing. I'm empty-headed. I should have been born a blonde."

"Knock it off, brat," he ordered, sounding irritated.

"Or what?" I said petulantly. "It's not like you can reach thru the phone and make me knock it off. Can you?"

"Alright, you listen to me-" he began.

"Bye, Daniel," I said, really softly, and hung up the phone receiver.

As soon as I'd done it, I knew that I shouldn't have. I really couldn't even believe that I HAD hung up on Daniel. I don't think I'd

ever hung up on anybody in my life. Well, except for maybe Seth. I stared at the phone for a minute, and then almost immediately it

began ringing again. I let it ring, and when the answering machine picked up again, Daniel's voice came across strong.

"Harlie. Pick up the phone. Right this minute."

I stayed still, and after a couple of moments, he said, "I am not kidding around with you. You pick up the phone. Now."

Still, I didn't reach for it. I felt bad for hanging up like that, but he sounded so mad now.

"I know you can hear me," Daniel continued. "I don't know what's wrong, or what's got you all fired up, but you'd best

pick up that phone."

What I stood there still, his voice said, angrily, "I swear, if I could get my hands on you right now, I'd blister your backside!"

I winced at that.

There was a huge sigh on his end. "Alright, Harlie. Have it your way."

And he hung up. And then, I burst into tears. What was wrong with me? I gave myself a stiff talking to, and went to splash water on my

face. I got an apple, and I was sitting on the front porch, eating that and studying, when the caravan of cars began to pull up

into the driveway. Adam and Hannah, along with Isaac, got out of her car. Guthrie and Ford got out of Guthrie's truck. Evan was the last

to pull up, and he had Nancy with him, along with Crane.

As usual, everybody was talking all at the same time, being noisy.

"Hi, sweetie," Hannah greeted me, on her way up the front steps.

"Hi," I said, around my apple.

"How was your morning? Did you get some sleep?"

Ah. Now I knew who had been behind me getting to stay home from church.

"Yes. I did."

"Well, good," she said. It looked as though she was going to say something else, but she didn't. She just smiled at me and went on into

the house.

Nancy was next, plopping down next to me on my step.

"Hey, wild child," she said in greeting.

"Hi."

"Why so glum?" she asked, nudging me in the side. "Being grounded got you feeling down in the dumps?"

Honestly, was there nothing that was private information in this family? Gahhh.

"Evan's got a big mouth," I said.

"Oh, don't be that way," she told me, with a wave of her hand. "It's not the end of the world to be grounded."

"I didn't say it was," I said, in irritation. "Everybody thinks I'm mad about that. But I'm not."

"Okay. Good."

"People need to stop speculating about me," I snapped.

"Right. Got it," she said, and when I met her blue eyes, they were sparkling in humor.

"It's not funny," I said.

"Oh, come down off your high horse, you little crabapple," she said, and gave me another dig in the ribs. "I'm gonna go help

Hannah get lunch on the table."

And with that, she got up and went inside. I stared after her for a minute. Telling me off that way! Honestly, the way she acted, it was as if she was

already a McFadden-by-marriage.

The guys, who had all gathered by the barn, were now heading towards the house, too. I watched them come, covertly, without seeming as if

I were watching.

Ford came first, ruffling my hair. I pulled away from his hand. "Stop it," I said, and he gave me a surprised look.

Adam was next, and I avoided his gaze altogether.

To Guthrie's greeting of, "Hey, hyena," I gave a genuine response, of "Hey, Guth."

Crane was last, several feet behind the others, and when they'd all gone inside, he sat down beside me, stretching his long

legs out in front of him.

"How goes it?" he asked.

"Okay."

"Getting all caught up?"

"Yeah."

We sat in silence for a couple of minutes, watching as Warrior tried to get Clarence to play.

"Want to read my essay?" I asked him.

"You bet," he said, and held out his hand.

I leafed thru my notebook, pulling out the rough copy.

Crane read over it. "I need my glasses," he said, after a couple of minutes.

"I'll get them," I offered.

"That's okay."

I was quiet while he read it, and when he handed it back it back to me, I searched his face.

"It's good," he said.

"I thought it was pretty good," I said, "but you know how it is. With your own stuff, you just never know if it is or not."

"Well, it is," he assured me.

"Is there anything wrong that you can see?" I asked him.

Crane gave me a raised eyebrow type of look, and I was quick to clarify. "I mean, something that you think I could have done better at

saying, or grammar, or anything like that?"

"So you want criticism, huh?" he asked, sounding skeptical.

"If it's constructive criticism," I said, and then I added, "If it's from you, then I'll take it."

"Hmm. So you're not going to quit talking to me, or think I'm being a jerk, or anything like that, huh?" he asked.

I felt my face get all hot in embarrassment. "Is that what you think I've been doing? To Adam, and to Brian?"

"A little bit. Yeah," he said honestly.

I sighed. "Everything's a mess."

"You're making it more of one than it has to be," he said, and reached over to gently rub my knee.

Another lecture. Great.

"I just wanted everybody to understand about Karissa," I said.

"Well, it's pretty much of a shock to us. You can understand that, can't you?"

"I understand that," I admitted.

"Then to expect to instantly hear what you want to hear, that's not realistic, peanut. It's unreasonable."

"I'm not trying to be unreasonable."

Crane didn't say anything. He just watched me, his fingers still moving back and forth on my knee.

"It was a shock to me, too," I said.

"I'm sure it was," he agreed.

"How did we get on this subject?" I asked. "I just wanted you to critique my essay."

Crane chuckled a little. "I'll read it again. With my glasses on this time. And then I'll 'critique' it, as you say."

"Okay."

We sat there for a few moments in quiet, and then I asked, "Did you think she was evil, too? Like Adam and Brian did?"

"I don't think evil is quite the right word," he said in disagreement.

"Well, what then?"

"She did a lot of damage to our family, peanut."

I looked at him questioningly. "You mean what she did with Ford? Driving him around while she was drinking?"

"Well that, yeah. And going to social services. She stirred up trouble. Or she tried to. Talking to the county about you kids."

"That's bad," I said.

"It was terrifying. For all of us."

The door was pushed open, and Guthrie said, "Hannah says come and eat lunch."

"Come on. Let's eat," Crane said, getting to his feet. "Questions can all be answered, but maybe not in one day."

During lunch I was quiet, just letting the laughter and conversation roll on around me. As we were finishing up, the phone

began to ring, and Ford went to answer it.

"It's Daniel!" he yelled back, for the benefit of everybody in the kitchen.

Guthrie and Hannah and Crane all got up to go talk to him.

I was pushing in my chair when I heard Crane hollering for me. Saying that Daniel wanted to talk to me. I knew Adam's eyes were on me, from

where he still sat in his spot at the table. But I reacted quickly, grabbing a jacket off the hook by the back door. I didn't even pay attention to

whose jacket it was.

I opened the door, and ran out, across the yard, and towards the pasture, pulling on the jacket as I ran. Once I got to the gate, I stopped.

The jacket was definitely too large. It looked like the one that Ford had worn home this weekend.

I squeezed thru the gaps in the gate, instead of taking the time to open it. I went out into the grassy pasture, waiting as old Charlie came ambling up

to me. I petted his nose, talking to him in a quiet voice.

I took his mane in my hands, and pulled myself up onto his back. I clicked my teeth at him, and he obligingly began to walk slowly out towards the

pasture. I stayed out there until I saw the familiar car of Mrs. Stevens pull into the driveway. She parked and got out, waving at me, as she went up the

front steps on the porch. I waved back, and slid down from Charlie's back.

When I went back thru the gate, and into the house, Adam and Hannah were both standing there in the living room, talking to Mrs. Stevens.

"Here she is," Hannah said, sounding a little relieved.

Did she think that I'd run off or something, I wondered crossly.

"Yep. Here I am," I said, and I thought that Adam's eyes were glittering a little as he looked at me.

"Where do you want to work at?" Mrs. Stevens asked, apparently oblivious to the crackling currents in the room.

I looked at Hannah. "Kitchen okay?" I asked her.

"That's fine. The table's all cleared off," Hannah said.

When I went to get my homework, we worked on it together for a while, and then, when we were finished, Mrs. Stevens spoke up.

"You seem to have a grasp on this new material, Harlie."

I shrugged lightly. "Sometimes it clicks in my brain right off, and other times it seems to take forever."

She smiled at me. "You're actually doing well enough that I don't think you need me to tutor you any longer."

I looked at her, surprised. "Really?"

"That's what I think."

I'd been working with her for so many months that it was a little scary to think that she wouldn't be around to help me

any longer.

"I don't know if I like that," I said, in honesty. "What if I start having trouble again?"

"Crane can help you if that happens. But I don't think it will. You need to have confidence and faith in yourself, Harlie."

"That's hard sometimes," I said. "Especially when simplifying fractions comes around."

She laughed a little. "You'll be fine."

I smiled back at her. She really was a nice lady.

"Do you want me to talk to Adam about you not needing me any longer? Or is it Crane I should talk to?" she asked.

"Crane," I said. "He's mostly the one who keeps tabs on Guthrie and I's grades. And he's the one who wanted me to do the

tutoring from the beginning."

"Alright. I'll talk to Crane then," she said. She looked at me again. "Would you mind, Harlie, if I shared an opinion with you?"

7


	17. Honor according to Evan

An opinion?

I looked at Mrs. Stevens curiously. "Yes. Sure."

"I don't want to intrude, but I feel as if I've gotten to know you all fairly well over the last few months. So I guess this is more of an

observation, than an opinion."

"Yes, ma'm," I said.

"I find your entire family extraordinary. Remarkable, really."

"I don't know about remarkable, but I guess we're pretty interesting, alright," I said. "And we're definitely out of the range

of what's ordinary."

"Your brothers are-" she hesitated. "Well, they're such fine men." She smiled a little. "That's not quite what I meant to say,

but I guess it'll do."

I knew my brothers were good guys. Just because I was aggravated at a majority of them, well that didn't mean I didn't recognize that.

"Yeah. They're good guys," I said, in agreement.

"Sometimes, in life, it's so easy to take those we love for granted. Especially if they're around all the time,

irritating us, and just generally being what we think is a nuisance."

I looked at her in surprise, not sure what she was getting at.

"It's hard at times like those to see past the moment." She smiled at me again. "I'm rambling, aren't I?"  
I didn't want to be disrespectful, so I just smiled back at her.

"They all adore you," she said quietly, surprising me further.

When she just sat there, and looked at me, in sort of an intent way, I felt compelled to speak up.

"I feel the same about them," I said.

"Just try to remember that, alright?"

"I will," I told her.

She nodded, as if pleased, and stood up, picking up her purse.

"Have a good rest of the afternoon, Harlie. I'll talk to you soon."

After Mrs. Stevens had gone, headed towards the front door, I sat there at the table for a few minutes, thinking. When I got up to start

gathering up my papers and math book, I still hadn't figured out what point she'd been trying to make. Bringing up the subject of my family,

and how good they were, and how much they cared about me? It was kind of weird, in a way. She'd never really strayed into any subject

that was personal before.

I went upstairs to put my stuff away, and then, when I saw the corner of the UPS box sticking out from under my bed, I closed my bedroom door,

and ripped open the box.

Inside there was another cashmere sweater, this one white, and a pale-yellow skirt. The skirt had a design of tiny flowers all over it. I knew just by

looking at it, that it would be extremely short on me. As in, so short that it would never pass brotherly approval.

There was a smaller box inside, too, and when I slipped the top off, there was a gold bracelet inside. It was slender, and

delicate looking. I couldn't resist fastening it around my wrist. It really was beautiful. There was a card inside the box, too.

I pulled it out to read.

'Darling Harlie,

I hope you like these things. I had such fun picking them out for you! I hope that the upcoming week includes us

getting together.

Love,

Aunt Karissa

I carefully folded the sweater and the skirt, putting them back into the box. I knew without a doubt that all three of the things were

very expensive. I knew I shouldn't accept them. And I knew what my brothers would say. I sighed, sitting down on the bed, and running my

fingers over the bracelet on my wrist. I'd never had any jewelry, not really. Other than a couple of necklaces, and the turquoise one that Tony

had given me for my birthday. And my mama's locket, that Adam had given me.

There was a quick tap on the door, and I covered the bracelet with my other hand, to hide it.

"Come in," I said.

Adam opened the door. "Hey," he said.

"Hey."

"I wanted to let you know that Hannah and I are goin' out to supper tonight with Brian and Clare. I think Crane and his girl are goin', too.

So you and Guthrie are gonna be on your own tonight. And Ford too, if he decides to stay home."

"Okay," I said.

He stood there a moment longer, looking as though he were going to say something, but then he didn't. He smiled at me a little. It wasn't a

full-blown smile, but at least it was a smile. In that instant, I made a quick decision.

As he turned to leave, I said, quietly, "Adam?"

"Yeah?" he asked, turning back.

"The package that came yesterday on the UPS truck? It wasn't anything that I ordered, like Brian thought."

"No?" he asked.

"No." I scooted over a little on the bed, so the open box was easier to see. "Karissa sent it."

"Oh." Adam came over closer to the bed. "Clothes?" he asked, looking at the box.

"Yeah. And this." I held my wrist out.

Adam came a step or two nearer, and took my wrist in his hand, turning it so he could see the bracelet.

"Wow," he said, and let my hand loose. I looked up into his face, and his expression seemed to be several things. Startled, and

worried.

I took the bracelet off, and put it back into the small box it had been in, and then looked back up at him.

"Can I sit?" he asked me, pointing to the spot beside me on the bed.

"Yes. Sure," I said.

Adam sat down beside me, and touched the sweater in the box.

"She says she just likes giving presents," I volunteered.

"Hmmm."

"I think she has a lot of money," I said then.

"Does she?"

"It seems like it. She wears nice clothes, and Guthrie said her car is really expensive."

"I don't know much about female clothes, but that bracelet's expensive," he said.

"Yeah," I agreed. "The clothes are, too. The sweater is cashmere."

"Cashmere, huh?"

I nodded.

"I really have no idea what that is," he admitted, and I gave him a small smile.

"It's one of the best materials there is," I told him. "Made of wool."

"Oh."

We sat there in silence for a long few moments.

"I wanted to tell you about her sending it," I said. "I wanted to be truthful."

"I'm glad you told me," he said, and then he reached over to take my hand in his, rubbing his thumb back and forth over

my fingers.

It was one of those really powerful moments, the kind that don't come along too often, and when they do, they make you

'sit up and take notice', as the saying goes. It was Adam's way, I knew, of letting me feel his approval. And also his way of trying to

smooth over the upset between us.

"I should return them, right?" I asked.

"I think so, yeah. Definitely the bracelet."

"How can I, though? If you don't want me to see her?"

Adam was quiet for a minute, looking thoughtful, and then he said, "For right now, just leave it all in the box, and I'll do some thinking."

I wondered what he meant by that. That he would 'do some thinking'. I didn't ask, though. Probably he meant we would just repackage everything,

and mail it back. Except we didn't have her address. Oh, well. I brushed those thoughts aside.

"Okay," I said, and then I added, "I can't really return the first sweater. I've worn it. And it got a little wet."

"From the capsized canoe?" he asked, and I nodded.

"Okay," he said.

Another moment of silence, with Adam still rubbing his thumb gently over my hand.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," I said, into the silence. "For thinking you didn't trust me to be

in the house alone. And for getting all snarky with you about it."

"I accept your apology," Adam said, and gave me another half-smile.

He stood up then, and went to the door. "You know what? I'll bet Ford and Evan would love to look at all those picture albums

of Mom."

"You think so?"

"I'd bet on it," he said.

7

That evening turned out to be fun. Evan and Nancy stayed home, and so Guthrie and I, along with Ford, hung out with them in the

living room. I carted the photo albums downstairs, and we all spent a couple of hours poring over them. When she first saw a picture

of a teenage girl, smiling into the camera, Nancy said, "Is this your mother?"

Evan gave a quick look. "Yeah."

Nancy looked up at me. "It's amazing. You look exactly like her," she told me.

"Thanks," I said, feeling a warmth inside at her words. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"It was meant as one," she told me, and I smiled at her.

Nancy and I made 'Dagwoods' for supper, each sandwich taller than the others, and the boys argued good-naturedly over

who could eat the biggest one.

We took turns holding Isaac, all evening, and then Nancy and I got him ready for bed, and she carried him upstairs.

Afterwards, we all played a game of Uno. I went to bed before all the others, and I fell asleep quickly. That night, I dreamed

for the first time in a long time about Doc G. In my dream, he was standing on a tall hill, looking off into the distance. Then he turned

towards me, and smiled. "There's mysteries beyond those hills, Harlie Mac," he said. "Not all of them can be answered."

And, then, he was gone. End of dream.

I woke up, frustrated at the dream, and wishing it had been a longer one. I'd gotten where I liked it when I dreamed about

Doc G.

I got dressed for school, and went downstairs. Captain Jack's cage was sitting on the end table by the couch, and he was busy

scolding and squawking. Ford must be getting ready to leave to go back to college.

When I went into the kitchen, I could hear Guthrie and Ford outside the back door, roughhousing with all the dogs. The smell of

bacon was in the air, and Brian was standing at the stove, flipping pancakes.

I hesitated, and then went up behind him, and wrapped my arms around his waist from the back.

I squeezed his middle, and then stood still for a moment, my cheek pressed against his back.

"Morning," he said.

"Good morning," I answered, and stepped back as he turned around to face me.

"I rate a hug this morning?" he asked, and I felt my face turn a little warm.

"Sorry about the weekend," I said, lumping it all together.

He looked at me somberly, and then said, "Just pull it together. That's all I want from you."

"Okay."

He nodded, and smiled. "Coffee's on," he said, and turned back to his pancake flipping.

7

At school, before the first bell rang, Lori found me in the hallway.

"I got caught Friday night," she said. "Did I get you into a lot of trouble?"

"Grounded," I said.

"I'm sorry. I felt bad all weekend about it, but my mom went crazy when she caught me coming in, all wet and everything. She threatened

to call my dad if I didn't tell her what happened."

"It's okay," I told her. "I'm not blaming you."

That afternoon when Guthrie and I got home from school, I did my outside chores, and then I went to ask Adam if I could go for

a ride on Charlie before supper.

"Yeah. Go on," he said, and then, as I was headed to get Charlie's bridle, he called me back over to where he was greasing the tractor.

"Come here for a minute," he said.

When I was standing back beside him, he looked seriously at me. "Did Margaret come by after school today to see you?"

I couldn't get used to hearing Karissa called Margaret like that.

"No," I said. I looked at him curiously. "Why?"

"I just wondered," he said, but I thought he sounded funny. Strange. Evasive.

"She called on Saturday," I said. "Evan answered, and he told her I couldn't come to the phone."

"Uh huh." He looked at me a moment longer, and then said, "Go on. Have a good ride."

"Okay," I said.

I got out in the pasture, and I gave Charlie his head. Old he may be, but he could still run like the wind. I felt so much better

after my ride. I spent another thirty minutes rubbing Charlie down, and curry combing him. I was deep in my thoughts while I worked, thinking

about Karissa, and how I felt about the whole situation.

I was happy to have all those photo albums, and happy to have learned more about my mom. I would, in the perfect outcome, have liked

it if Karissa had been able to join into our family, visiting sometimes, and coming at holidays.

It didn't look as though that was going to happen, though. I was so involved in my own thoughts that I jumped, startled, when

Evan tapped me on the shoulder.

"Oh my gosh! You scared me!" I accused him. "Why are you sneaking up behind me like that?"

"I wasn't sneaking up on you. You were in another world someplace."

As I kept on brushing Charlie, Evan said, "You're grounded all this week, right?"

"Yeah. And next week," I said, and looked at him curiously. "Why?" I was hoping he was going to ask me to ride with him

over to Irene Sampell's house. I thought that Adam might let me do that.

"Because. I've got somethin' for you to do. In the evenings, or on Saturdays," he said.

"What?"

"I want you to clean and polish all the tack."

"You want me to help you?" I asked him, puzzled.

"No. Not help me. I want you to do it."

I stared at Evan, incredulously. "Why would I want to do that?"

"I didn't say you'd wanna do it. Just that I want you to."

I stopped brushing Charlie, and let my hands drop to my sides. "How come?" I asked.

"Because you went to that party," he said, his voice flat.

"I thought we talked all that out, Saturday, on the porch," I said, confused.

"We talked. But I want you to do the tack," he said, sounding adamant.

For those that are not familiar with horses, and all the tack that they use, it involves a lot of work to clean and polish it. Especially with the

amount that we have. Hours. And hours.

I was still staring at Evan, almost unbelieving. "Why?" I persisted.

"Because. You broke your promise to me."

"I explained that to you. It wasn't the same at all-"

"I heard all your reasons for it not bein' the same. No dice. You broke a promise that we made between us. Do the tack."

I could feel my frustration rising, and my temper following close behind.

"That's a big job," I protested. "Especially for one person."

He shrugged, silent.

"I don't think that's really fair, Ev," I said, trying to keep my voice low, and convincing.

He shrugged again. "Oh, well," he said, in dismissal of my protest.

For the next few moments, we looked straight at each other, head on. I was debating on whether to argue, or try to defy him.

"If I don't want to do it, then what?" I asked him, still keeping my voice quiet.

He was quiet, and I said, with an accusing tone to my voice, "You'll tell Adam. And Brian. About that night at Hell's Bend, right?"

"I don't know about that," he said. "But if you don't do it, then I'll know your word doesn't mean much. I won't have much respect for

you. And, I don't think we'd be the same, you and me."

"You mean things between us?" I asked him, feeling suddenly horrified at the thought.

"Yeah."

"We'd go back to the way we used to be?" I asked, feeling tears well up in my eyes. Evan and I used to argue and fuss a lot. I'd pick at him,

and he'd yell. We'd never been close. But the last year or so, we had changed things around. We had fun together, and I could count on him

to be in my corner for most things. And we could talk. About important stuff.

In a matter of seconds, all of those thoughts and feelings passed thru my mind.

"Maybe," Evan said, sounding sad. "Cause if you don't do this, I'll know that you don't care enough to honor what we've got

between us."

I swallowed hard, and brushed at the embarrassing tears on my cheeks. I didn't want him to see me crying.

"Okay," I said. "I'll do the tack."

"Okay." He hesitated, looking at me. "Hannah says come in and wash up for supper."

"I'll be in in a second," I said, and when he'd gone, I put stuff away, trying to get control of my emotions.

7


	18. Hurtful shock

I went in to eat supper, and I didn't say a whole lot to anyone. I had so much on my mind, and my emotions were all in turmoil.

"Hey, don't forget, I'm doing your dish duty tonight," Clare reminded me, as we were finishing eating.

I nodded, and then thought I might as well go out and get started on the tack before I took a shower.

"Where are you off to?" Crane asked me, as I started pulling my jacket on.

"Gonna do some stuff outside for awhile," I said vaguely.

Nobody else asked, or seemed to pay much attention, so I made my exit to the barn, and got out the rags and the polish. I started on

Evan's saddle first. I have to admit, I had the thought that if I did a really good job on his, that he might let me off the hook from doing the rest.

Well, maybe not all of the rest. But some of it, hopefully.

I was nearly done with Evan's saddle when I heard Guthrie hollering for me. I went to the door of the barn.

"What?" I hollered back at him.

"Your turn for the shower!" he yelled, from the porch.

I waved at him, and went to put stuff away. The sun was beginning to set, and I stopped long enough in my walk across the yard to admire the colors of it.

I took my shower, and got into my pajamas. I went back downstairs to do my diabetes shot, and got some crackers out of the cabinet, spreading

peanut butter on some, and some sweet apple jelly on the others.

When I took the plate with everything on it back into the living room, and sat down beside Hannah, who was bouncing Isaac in her arms,

she said, "Snack time, huh? Good."

"I probably shouldn't eat the jelly, since it's so full of sugar," I said. "But it sounded good."

"It'll be fine. It seems like you've been so careful lately, about what you've been eating."

"I've been trying."

"I'm glad you told Adam about everything," she said.

"I'm glad, too," I told her.

7

After school, the next afternoon, Guthrie met me at the truck in the parking lot.

"Hey, Lonnie and Trent and I are gonna hang around awhile and shoot some hoops in the gym. You can come watch. Do your

homework or somethin'."

"I don't want to get into trouble-" I began.

"I called home already at lunch period and told Hannah. It's fine. They know you're with me."

"Oh ho!" I said, sticking my tongue out at him. "Mr. Superiority! If I'm with you, then all is well! Is that what you're trying to

imply?"

"But, of course," Guthrie said smugly, popping a piece of gum into his mouth.

"Fine, elephant ears," I said.

I went to watch awhile, and did my worksheets for science and history. I stood up, stretching, tired of sitting on the hard

bleachers. I dug into my pocket for change, and headed out of the gym.

"Where you goin'?" Guthrie yelled.

"Eloping with the UPS driver!" I yelled back, and Guthrie gave an impatient wave of his hand at me, and went back to his basketball game.

I went down the quiet, nearly deserted hallway, to the vending machine, where I debated on a bag of M&M's, or a Coke. I had enough

money for both, and most teenagers wouldn't have to think twice about having both.

But I wasn't like most teenagers. At least in this particular way. Both could send my levels skyrocketing. And the ensuing headache and

feeling like crap wouldn't be worth it.

I picked the candy, thinking I would eat half the bag, and give the rest to Guthrie.

After Guthrie finished playing basketball, we walked out to the parking lot with Trent and Lonnie. I was sitting in the truck cab, waiting for

Guthrie to get done talking to the boys. I was folding the top down on the bag of candy, when a car pulled up, in the other part of the

parking lot. A familiar car. I watched as Karissa got out, and leaned against her car, waving at me.

I bit my lip, trying to decide what to do. Finally, I decided that I had to at least talk to her. Explain what Adam had said. I got

out, causing Guthrie to look up from his conversation, where all three boys were leaning on the truck hood.

"Be ready in a minute," he told me.

I gave a discreet point in the direction of Karissa's car. When Guthrie saw her, he frowned.

"Hey, guys," he said, calling an abrupt halt to Lonnie's latest fishing story, "I gotta take off. See you tomorrow."

The boys both said goodbye and went off towards their own trucks.

"Ignore her. Let's go," Guthrie said.

"I can't just drive past her," I protested.

"No. But I can," he said. "Get in." He got in, slamming his door.

When I stood there, beside my door, not getting in, Guthrie gave me a glare. I sighed, and opened my door, but instead

of getting in, I leaned across the seat towards him.

"I'm just going to talk for a minute," I assured him. "I should tell her what they said."

When he still was stubbornly silent, I said, "She's been nice to me, Guth."

He looked as though he was wavering slightly, so to seal the deal, I added, "I'll tell Adam about it when we get home."

"Promise?" he asked me.

"I promise."

"Okay. But no matter what, you're not gonna go with her. Not to the park, not anywhere. Right?"

"Yes, Guthrie," I said, with a long-suffering sigh, and an eye roll to the heavens.

When I started across the parking lot towards Karissa, Guthrie was right there, walking beside me.

"You don't have to come," I told him.

"Yeah. I do," he said.

Karissa's smile grew wider as we got closer.

"Hello!" she said.

"Hi," I said.

"How are you?" she asked.

"Fine," I said.

"How about you, Guthrie?" she asked, turning to him. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, ma'm," he said.

"Oh, I thought we'd dispensed with that ma'm nonsense," Karissa told him, with a smile.

Guthrie just ducked his head in answer.

"You're late in leaving today," she said.

"Guthrie was shooting some baskets with his friends," I said in explanation.

"Is it alright if we talk for a bit?" she asked us, but she looked at me.

I looked at Guthrie, and his eyes told me plainly that I needed to speak up.

I faced Karissa, and said, "I talked to the family about you."

Karissa lost her smile. "It didn't go well, did it?"

I hesitated. I didn't want to hurt her.

"It's alright, Harlie," she said. "I didn't really expect it to end well."

"I'm still hopeful that they'll come around," I said, searching for the right words to say.

"I wouldn't hold out for that hope, sweetheart," she said, and there was no mistaking the bitterness in her voice.

I didn't know what to say then, so I was quiet, feeling a heavy pit settle in my stomach.

"Could we go and have a Coke together at least?" she asked. "At that little drive in, where you were working at?"

I could feel Guthrie digging his knuckles into my back. His signal, I knew, for me to turn her invitation down.

"I can't," I said.

She was looking at me with the strangest look, almost desparate, and I turned to Guthrie,

"I'll be at the truck in five minutes," I told him.

He frowned again, and looked like he was going to argue.

"Five minutes. Please, Guth."

"Alright," he said, and when he had walked away, I looked back at Karissa.

"Guthrie doesn't want me to get into trouble," I told her.

"And talking to me will get you into that trouble, is that it?" she asked.

Instead of answering that, I said, "They said that you drove Ford around when you'd been drinking, and that you

crashed into the fence."

"Well, it didn't take them long to relate all my evils to you, did it?" she said.

I was shocked at the anger in her voice.

"I'd been taking some medicine, and it interacted with the wine I had at lunch. When I drove Ford home I got a bit dizzy," she said.

"Oh," I said. That was sure a different twist to the report of the situation that Adam and Brian had given me.

"It must have been scary for Ford, though," I felt inclined to point out. "He was so little."

"And I've always felt badly about that. But they wouldn't let me prove to them that it was a one-time incident," Karissa insisted.

There was a moment or so of uncomfortable silence.

I figured I might as well get it all out of the way and into the open. "They said you only wanted to see me. Not the boys."

"Well, I'll admit that I had a soft spot for you. You looked so much like Kate. And I didn't approve of the way they were raising you. They didn't fix your hair properly,

or dress you nicely-"

"Those things aren't important, though," I said, in defense of my brothers. "I mean, not important for a one year old. And they were so young. They did their best."

"I know they were young. That's why I wanted to be involved. But they just wouldn't allow it," Karissa said, her voice clipped.

"Did you call social services on them about all of us kids?" I asked.

"They certainly filled your head with poison," she said, bitingly, and for the first time I noticed the way she seemed a little unsteady on her feet, stepping back towards

her car.

"They weren't trying to do that," I denied.

"I did not call social services," she said. "That was probably some nosy neighbor, and they've always tried to blame it on me."

"Oh," I said again, feeling confused.

Guthrie honked the truck horn at me.

"I've got to go," I said.

"Let's meet and eat together before your class tomorrow night again," she said.

"I can't," I said, and at her look of disappointment, I added, "I'm grounded. One of the guys will be bringing me, and then picking me up again."

"Why are you grounded?" she asked.

"Being somewhere that I wasn't supposed to be."

"And they took away your driving privileges?" she asked, sounding disapproving. "That doesn't seem quite right to me. Didn't you tell me that the truck was given to you by

that veterinarian? Doctor T?"

"Doc G," I corrected, "And yeah, it's from him."

"Then how are they in the right to take the use of it from you? They didn't purchase it for you."

I stared at her for a moment. There was no time to explain it to her. A traitorous, rebellious thought jumped into my mind. She had a point. I pushed that thought back.

"I have to go," I said again.

"Alright." She sighed. "When will we be able to get together again?"

I hesitated, not wanting to tell her that Adam said I couldn't get together with her. It was going to be bad enough, telling him and Brian about talking to her now, here at the school.

"Maybe things would go smoother if you talked to Adam," I suggested. "To try to work some of this out. You could come over, maybe on a Sunday afternoon. They try to take a break on Sundays most of the time."

"I absolutely cannot come to the house," Karissa said, sounding indignant. "I will not put myself thru that humiliation!"

"Then maybe you could call him-" I began.

"I just don't think it would do any good," she said, sounding definite.

I was swamped with sudden disappointment. Both in the situation, and most especially, in her. She wouldn't even try?

Guthrie had gotten tired of waiting, and was walking back over to where I stood. He gave me a nudge.

"I'm coming," I said.

"I can't keep the bracelet," I told her. "It's beautiful, but it's just too expensive."

"You think that?" she asked, and then added knowingly, "or Adam does?"

I didn't answer, because I didn't want to aggravate her any further. She seemed almost volatile in her mood, and I was fairly certain that she'd been drinking.

"And does he think you should give back the photo albums, too?" she asked.

"No. He understands about those."

"Well, that's just big-hearted of him," she said, sarcastically.

I'd had enough of this. It didn't seem as though there was anything positive that was going to come from continuing the conversation.

"I have to go," I said again. I didn't want to promise that I would see her soon, or anything like that, because I wasn't sure how things were going to go, or if Adam and Brian would change their minds.

She nodded briefly at me, and didn't say anything. I turned around to go, when I heard her call after me.

"When you return the bracelet, you can return those photo albums, too!"

I stopped walking, and turned to look back at her, horrified. Shocked. Scared. "But you gave them to me," I said, and I realized I sounded like a little kid, pleading.

She didn't say anything. Nothing at all. She opened her car door, and got in, a little unsteadily it seemed to me.

She slammed the door, and stared straight ahead, thru the windshield.

I was so shocked that I don't think I could have moved one step. If I'd been standing there alone, I think I might have started pleading with her thru the car window,

to please not make me give back all those photos of my mother. I didn't have to make that decision. though. Because Guthrie took on his 'lord of the manor' role and

grabbed ahold of my hand.

"Let's go, Har," he said, and started pulling me along.

Halfway across the parking lot, I pulled back. "I'm going to try to talk to her again-" I said.

Guthrie took a firmer hold on me, and started pulling again. "Not now," he said.

A couple of moments later, Karissa's car whizzed past us, heading down the street.

"She's bat shit crazy," Guthrie said.

At the truck, Guthrie yanked my door open, waiting for me to get in.

I looked at Guthrie, my eyes filling with tears. "She was so mean, Guth!"

"I know," he said.

My lower lip quivered. I guess Guthrie knew I was about to lose it totally, because he wrapped his arm around my shoulder.

"Don't, Har. Don't let her do this to you."

I leaned my head against Guthrie's shoulder for a minute. He patted me, sort of awkwardly. Guthrie's never been good with my tears. So I struggled mightily to stop crying, so as to not torture him.

I raised my head. "I'm okay," I told him, brushing at my cheeks. "Let's just go home."

We were silent for the first half of the ride home. Guthrie alternately snapped his gum, and popped his knuckles. He was agitated, and worried, I knew.

"I'd like to tell her exactly what I think of her," he muttered darkly, into the silence.

"What? That you think she's bat shit crazy?"

"That. And other things. She's got no reason to treat ya like that."

Hearing all that loyalty and defense of me in his voice warmed me on the inside, where it felt so hurtful.

"It's alright," I said.

"No, it's not alright. And I guarantee ya, that I'm gonna tell her what kind of a person she is. I don't know when exactly, but I'm goin' to do it."

"I hope Adam doesn't get too mad," I mused aloud, looking out the window as we rolled past familiar houses and barns.

"About you talkin' to her?"

I nodded, and Guthrie said, "He'll understand. I'll tell him what happened."

I turned my face to the window again, trying to hide tears that wouldn't stop coming.

After a few minutes, Guthrie said, "Please stop cryin'."

"I know. It's silly. Foolish. To cry about some pictures."

"It's not any such thing," Guthrie said stoutly. "Those pictures are important. And she gave 'em to ya. They're yours."

When we pulled into our long driveway, I'd managed to stop crying, but my mood was still low.

I got out, grabbing my backpack, and slinging it over my shoulder.

"Let's go find Adam," Guthrie said.

"I'll tell him after supper," I said.

"See, now that's your problem, Har," Guthrie said. "You're always tryin' to put stuff off."

"Oh, is that my problem, Guthrie James?"

"Yeah. It is."

We stood there, beside the truck, both of staring stubbornly at one another. Not mad, just stubborn.

"Hi, kids!" somebody yelled, and we both looked towards the pasture to see Crane and Brian waving at us, both of them on horseback.

Guthrie waved at them.

"Come on and help!" Crane called.

Guthrie handed me the biology book in his hand. "Take this inside for me, okay?"

"Who says I'm not coming, too?" I demanded of him.

"Well, okaaaaay," he drawled. He took the book back and flung it into his truck seat. I followed suit with my backpack, and we both went to saddle our horses. Evan and Adam were further up

in the pasture, too, trying to round up some calves who were reluctant to be herded. Guthrie and I joined in, with everybody scattering to bring the young calves up to the corral. My hair came loose from my braid, the wind blowing the curls into my face. I had to keep pushing it away from my eyes, so I could see.

Brian rode up alongside of me, and hollered over the noise the calves were making, as they bawled for their mothers. "Hey!" he yelled.

When I looked at him, and brought Petra to a slower lope, he took his hat off and handed it to me as he rode past.

For the first time that afternoon I felt like smiling. "Thanks!" I called, as he rode on.

I bunched my long mass of curls into both hands at the nape of my neck, and then bundled it all under Brian's hat, pulling it down as tight as I could. For a little while, a little glorious while, I forgot about Karissa. I forgot about being grounded and trying to prove to Adam that I wasn't a liar. I forgot about levels, and shots, and diabetes. I forgot how much I missed Doc G, and ached to hear his voice. I forgot about everything except the goal of rounding up the calves, and the wonderful feeling of being on Petra's back, in the sunshine.

I was enjoying myself so much that I herded more calves than Guthrie and Evan did. I didn't know that until I saw both of them and Crane sitting still on their horses, watching me. Crane was laughing, and Evan made an exaggerated flourish toward the calves that were left.

"It's all yours, showoff!" Evan yelled at me.

I touched the brim of Brian's cowboy hat, in the age-old way of saluting someone. And then I got down to business, rounding up the rest of the calves.

7


	19. Walk down memory lane

After the calves had all been rounded up, and were in the corral, ready for the morning, when they would have their ear tags

put in, we were all unsaddling our horses.

"That was some good work out there, cowgirl," Adam told me, hanging his saddle on a saddle rack.

"Thanks," I said, as I unbuckled the cinch to Petra's saddle.

"Damn fine," Brian said, in agreement. He gave Guthrie a punch to the shoulder. "Your sister cleaned your clock out

there, boy."

"Don't I know it," Guthrie grumbled good-naturedly.

"Yeah, peanut, way to hustle," Crane added.

"Thanks," I said again.

"And hey," Brian said, "give me back my hat!"

I took off the hat and tossed it to him, letting my hair fall down my back.

"You're gonna need a currycomb for that hair," Adam teased, stopping beside me.

"Oh, man, I wanna do it," Evan said, ambling toward me with one of the horse's brushes in his hand.

Evan went so far as to grab me around the waist, and act as though he was going to actually use the brush on my hair.

At the last moment, he turned me loose. "I couldn't even get a scream out of you," he complained.

"I knew you wouldn't really do it," I said.

"Oh, yeah?" he said, and made a menacing move back toward me.

Comments of how hungry they all were filled the conversation, as they all began heading for the house.

"You comin' in?" Adam asked me, as I dropped back.

"Yeah. After I feed Elwood."

Adam gave me an appraising look. "You okay?" he asked.

"I'm okay."

"You look as though you've been cryin'," he said.

I shrugged, avoiding his eye.

Guthrie, who had stopped, too, stuck his two cents into the conversation.

"She has been cryin'," he verified. "And she's not really okay."

I gave him a silencing glare. It didn't work, because he kept talking. "She's upset."

"What's wrong?" Adam asked, looking from Guthrie back to me.

I rubbed Petra's soft nose, looking at Adam without saying anything.

"She was waitin' for us when we came out of the school building," Guthrie said, quietly.

"Margaret, you mean?" Adam asked, as Brian and Crane stopped beside us to listen, too.

"Margaret. Karissa. Whatever her name is," Guthrie said, his voice full of distain.

"What happened?" Adam asked, looking concerned.

"She's bat shit crazy," Guthrie stated.

"Did you talk to her?" Adam asked me then, and I felt my stomach leap in nerves. Probably he was going to get really mad at me again. Talking

to Karissa after he'd told me not to.

"She just talked to her for a few minutes," Guthrie interjected. "Har wanted to tell her that she couldn't keep that stuff she sent, and all

of that. She was trying to do what you wanted."

I have to hand it to Guthrie. He'd make a great defense lawyer.

Apparently, they thought so, too, because Adam said, "I don't think there's anything wrong with your sister's speech ability. Let her answer

for herself."

He looked at me intently. "Well, Harlie?" he asked.

I couldn't tell much by the tone of his voice. The only thing to do was to stick with my new policy of honesty.

"She was waiting in the parking lot. Guthrie thought we should just drive on, and not stop. But, I thought I should tell her some

of the stuff we talked about."

"Let me guess," Brian said. "She had an entirely different spin on everything than what we said. Right?"

"Pretty much," I admitted.

"That figures," Brian said darkly.

"She was talkin' real mean and spiteful," Guthrie said.

"Her talkin' that way about us is nothing new," Adam said.

"It wasn't just about you guys," Guthrie said. "She was talkin' that way to Har, too."

Adam looked at me even more intently, as if he were looking at my insides from my outside, if that makes sense.

"Was she?" he asked me.

I felt a lump in my throat that made it hard to talk.

I managed a nod.

"That's bullshit," Brian said.

"This has gotten out of hand," Crane said, sounding worried.

"Yeah," Adam said, in agreement, his voice quiet.

We could hear Hannah calling us all in to supper.

"We'll talk after supper," Adam said, in a general way, but he looked at me. "You can feed the goats after you eat, too."

"Okay," I said. I wanted to ask him if he was mad at me for stopping to talk to Karissa. I hung back a little, and waited, and

as he was holding the screen door for me to pass in front of him, I stopped.

"Are you mad at me?" I asked, looking up at him.

"Did you disobey me?" he asked. "Get ahold of her to ask her to meet you at the school? Call her?" he asked me.

"No," I said, wondering what point he was trying to make.

"Then I'm not mad. I'm not gonna blame you for something that she does."

To say I was immensely relieved would be an understatement.

"Okay," I said.

I guess I must have sounded a little subdued, or something, because he leaned down to kiss the top of my head. "It's overwhelming. I know."

My eyes filled with easy tears.

"She said I should give back the photo albums, Adam!" I said, in a rush of words.

He was startled by that, I could see.

"She said that?" he asked. "That she wanted them back?"

"She said since I wasn't going to keep the other things, the bracelet, and the clothes, that I should just give all the pictures back, too." I looked at him miserably.

There was an expression on Adam's face. Full of emotions. Anger. And determination.

"We're not gonna worry about that right now," he told me, his voice even. He reached out to brush my hair back with his hand. "What we're gonna do, right now, is go eat our supper, and then you can do your homework, and we can sit down together, and look at the albums."

"You will?" I asked. Adam's never really liked to look at old pictures, and I've always thought it was because it made him too sad. To look at all the happy, laughing photographs of when life was a lot less complicated for him. And for Brian.

"Yeah. I will. Now, take a deep breath," he ordered.

I took a deep breath as he said, and he smiled at me a little. "Let's go eat supper."

7

Hannah had made a roast, with potatoes and carrots, and an apple crisp. I ate the meat and vegetables, and drank my glass of milk.

She had, as is usual, made me my own dessert. One out of the diabetic cookbook that she had found at a garage sale. This particular one was similar to strawberry shortcake, except she had used blueberries. I'm not really a big fan of blueberries usually, but I appreciated the effort she took to make me feel as though I could still have desserts, too, like everybody else.

So I ate it, and it was really pretty good. And, as usual, Evan and Guthrie ended up eating some of it, too, as well as their share of the apple crisp.

"It's good, Hannah," I told her. "Thank you."

She smiled at me, but her eyes were worried. "Adam says there was a problem, with Karissa."

When I nodded, she reached over to squeeze my hand. "I'm sorry, sweetie."

Since I wasn't on dishwashing duty, and was caught up on homework, I went back outside after supper. I felt Elwood P. Dowd and his two wives, and then went into

the barn, and worked on polishing some more of the tack. I'd finished Evan's saddle, and was working on the one that Ford uses, when

I heard Adam calling me.

I stepped to the door of the barn. "I'm out here!" I called back.

"Come on inside," he said, motioning me towards the house.

"Okay," I said, and went back into the barn, to put all the cleaning stuff away.

When I went up the front porch steps, Adam was waiting for me, holding the screen door open.

"You want to tell me why you're so busy lately workin' on cleaning all the tack?" he asked.

I hadn't realized I'd been so obvious about it. When I looked at him questioningly, he added, "Some of it's startin' to shine." He sounded

as though he was teasing, so I shrugged lightly.

"You noticed, huh?" I asked him.

"Yeah. I noticed. The sparkle almost blinded me."

It was nice to have him teasing me again. It was so nice that I didn't want to say anything to spoil it. But how was I to avoid answering him

about why I was doing the tack?

I stepped on into the living room, and then turned to face him.

"It was kind of needing to be done," I said, stalling for time.

"Uh huh," Adam said drily.

"What was needing to be done?" Crane asked, on his way past us, a glass of tea in his hand.

"The tack," Adam told him, not taking his eyes from my face.

Evan, behind Crane, came to a halt, too, biting into a cookie.

I looked at Evan. Evan looked at me. An unspoken conversation occurred between us.

He nodded at me, just barely.

"Evan asked me to do it," I said, figuring this was it. The final straw. Now they were going to find

out about that night in November when I'd gone to Hell's Bend to a party, where I had been drinking. My ship was going down.

"Yeah?" Adam asked.

I was formulating my words, thinking my day couldn't possibly get any worse. First Karissa, and now this!

I was surprised to hear Evan speak up. "Yeah. I asked her to do it," he affirmed.

He took another bite of his cookie, and then added casually, "It's kind of somethin' between Harlie and me, Adam."

Adam raised his eyebrows, looking a little surprised, but then he said, "Okay. Good enough for me."

And that, thank goodness, was the end of that.

I gave Evan a grateful smile, which he responded to by giving my hair a gentle tug.

I went to take my shower, and when I came back downstairs, in sweatpants, and a t-shirt, everybody was gathering in the living

room, finishing up the apple crisp that was left from supper. I went to get some cheese and crackers for my snack, and found Brian at the stove, busy

making his special hot cocoa.

"Specialty of the house, comin' right up," he told me.

"Yum," I said, in response.

"You gonna have some?" he asked me.

"Uh huh," I said, and went to root around in the refrigerator for the cheese, taking it over to one of the counters, and then going to retrieve the crackers out of the

cabinet.

I turned to find his eyes on me. "You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah." I hesitated. "It was just sort of a shock. For her to get so angry, so quickly like she did."

"I'll bet," he agreed.

I took down a plate, and got a knife, cutting off pieces of cheese to put on my crackers. "She's been really nice to me, Bri. Up until today, I mean."

He looked at me, but didn't say anything, and I had the sudden urge to try to make him understand.

"She seems mostly sad. Kind of like she's at loose ends," I told him.

He still didn't say anything, and so I kept on talking, stacking my cheese and crackers onto the plate. "She got divorced awhile back. I think she's lonely."

I nibbled on a cracker, watching as he poured hot cocoa from the pan into several cups that were setting out.

"I asked her to come here, to the house."

Brian stopped, mid-pour, to give me a horrified look. "You're kidding," he said.

"No. I mean, I would have told you about it first, if she'd agreed to come. But don't worry. She said she wouldn't."

"Oh." He resumed his pouring.

"Then I asked her to call. To talk to Adam. But she said she wouldn't do that, either."

Finished with what he'd been doing, Brian turned to lean against the counter beside the stove. "I'm sorry, peach."

"You don't have to say that you're sorry." I gave him a sad smile. "I know you don't want her to come around."

"Now see, you're only half-right there," he said. "You're right about me not wantin' her to come around. And we've got good reason for feeling that way.

But, you're wrong about me not havin' to say that I'm sorry. Because I am sorry. I'm sorry that she turned on you, and I'm sorry that she won't call, even when she knows it was important to you for her to try."

It was a long speech for Brian, and filled with feelings, which is a bit unusual for him, as well.

"Thanks," I told him, tears filling my eyes.

He reached out to pull me into a tight hug.

"I don't want to give all those pictures back," I said, pressing my cheek against his shirt.

"Adam and I talked about it, and we're glad you have them," he said, not understanding what I was getting at. "I'm sorry I was an ass about it. You don't have to

give them back."

"She said so," I said, and Brian pushed me back a little, so that I was looking up at him.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"She said she wanted them back," I said, feeling the pain of that hit me anew.

"I thought you said she gave all those to you?" he asked.

"I did. I mean, she did say I could keep them when she gave them to me."

"But then, when she didn't get her way, she put on her bitch hat, huh? And she threatened you?" he asked, and there was that deadly quietness to his voice.

The one that suggests that someone is about to face the wrath of Brian McFadden.

I didn't really want him to get all angry. I mean, he already had enough bad feelings about Karissa as it was. I wished that I hadn't brought

it up.

But it's a little like stopping a force of nature, whenever Brian gets that look on his face, or that tone to his voice.

He took hold of my shoulders, and said, sounding fierce, "The pictures are yours. Period. I'll see to it."

I wasn't at all certain what he meant by that. 'I'll see to it'. The words, for sure, had an ominous sound to them.

Then, just as quickly, Brian turned loose of me, and said calmly, "Help me carry all these cups to the living room, will ya, peach?"

7

We all settled in the living room, eating popcorn and drinking Brian's cocoa. I brought the albums of pictures out to share, and a couple of hours

passed quickly, with everybody commenting, and passing pictures back and forth. There were a lot of them that included different poses of the older couple

I'd seen in several pictures when I looked earlier.

Curled up between Guthrie and Brian on the couch, I held a couple of them out to Brian.

"There's nothing written on the back. Do you think these are Mom's grandparents?"

Brian took the pictures and looked them over, passing one of them on to Adam. He looked a little longer at the one in his hand.

"What do you think, Adam? I'd say probably so. Wouldn't you?"

"Yeah. I'd say so," Adam said, in agreement.

"Their names were Joshua and Maxine, right?" Crane asked. "I remember Mom talking about them a couple of times."

"I think so," Brian said.

"He was a pilot in the war, I remember mom saying," Crane said.

Guthrie and I both started asking questions, and paying attention, as Crane talked about what he remembered.

"World War II?" Guthrie asked, looking as though he was thinking.

"World War I," Crane said.

"Wow," Guthrie said.

After that the conversation turned to other stories, and both Guthrie and I, and Evan, too, were surprised to learn that our father had had a pilot license at one time.

"I never knew that," Evan said.

"Where did he fly?" Guthrie asked.

Adam and Brian looked at each other, both obviously trying to remember details of things that they hadn't thought about for years.

"He did some crop dusting," Adam said. "Mostly around here, I think. He took Brian and I up with him a couple of times."

"Wow," Guthrie said, again, obviously impressed. "That must have been awesome."

"Yeah, I liked it," Adam said, and then he chuckled a little. "Brian didn't like it so well, though. Did you, Brian?"

"Keep your comments to yourself, big brother," Brian said, as he continued flipping pages in one of the albums.

"What happened?" Guthrie demanded.

"He was shaking so much that the plane almost flipped over," Adam continued, despite Brian's dark look. "Yelling 'we're going down! we're going down!' over and over, the whole time."

Guthrie and Evan started laughing, and even Clare giggled.

"Our tough brother is afraid to fly?" Evan asked.

"I would have liked to have heard that!" Guthrie hooted in amusement.

"Being blown completely out of proportion," Brian grumbled, good-naturedly. "I don't think I yelled it the entire time, anyway."

Clare leaned down from where she was standing behind the couch to hug Brian around the neck. "It's alright, darlin'. I still love you, even if we can never parachute out

of a plane together."

When it was nearly nine-thirty, Adam said we should look at the pictures some more another evening.

"You kids need to be gettin' to bed," he said.

"Yeah. I'm beat, too," Brian said, with a yawn.

Clare and Hannah started picking up all the cups from the cocoa, and bowls of leftover popcorn, taking them to the kitchen. Guthrie went upstairs to take a shower, and everybody else

began to stack the albums. I was still sitting on the couch, looking at a particular picture of my mom with what seemed to be a much-younger version of Karissa, and their parents. My mother was dressed

in blue jeans, rolled up at the bottom, while Karissa was dressed to the nines in high heels and a dress. The dress was one of those from the late 1950's that had the flouncy skirt.

Crane nudged my foot with the toe of his boot. "Come on, peanut. Help get stuff cleaned up."

"Okay," I said, but I still sat there, studying the picture. There was something about it that puzzled me. Karissa stood off to the side, while my mom was nestled in the middle

between my grandparents.

"Crane, look," I said, holding it up for him to look at.

He took it from me. "Yeah," he said, handing it back. "Mom looks like she's about fifteen or so."

"I don't mean that. Look at how Karissa is standing. Off to the side."

Crane took another look, closer this time. "Yeah. I see."

"In every single picture that she's in, she's standing that way."

Adam paused beside us, and Crane handed the picture off to him.

"It's like she's not a part of the family group," I said.

Adam studied the picture. "Probably she just didn't want her picture taken, or somethin'," he said.

"Right," Crane agreed. "Maybe she was on her way out for a date or something."

"But it's every single photo of her that she's standing that way," I said, again.

"Most girls are moody, like that," Adam said, handing the picture back to me.

"Not me," I denied, and Adam gave me a 'you're kidding' look.

"Oh. Okay," he said, teasing. "Now come on, get stuff put up and get to bed."

7

I was finishing up brushing my teeth, when Adam came to the open door of the bathroom.

"I'm thinkin' things out," he said. "Figuring the best way to handle this whole thing with her."

Her. Karissa. Margaret. KarissaMargaret.

"Okay," I said, wiping my mouth with a towel.

"Do you have a phone number for her?" he asked me.

"She gave me the number to a hotel she was staying at in Modesto," I said.

"She lives in Modesto?" he asked.

"She said she actually lives in Nevada."

"Hmmm. Well, leave the phone number on the desk," he said.

I looked at him in surprise. "You're going to call her?" I asked him. I felt a sudden moment of hopefulness.

"I'm not sure what I'm doing yet. Just leave the number, alright?" he said.

"Okay."

Adam stood there, looking at me a moment longer, as if he was thinking about something.

"If she shows up at school again, or anywhere you're at, I don't want you to stop and talk to her like you did today."

Even though I was really hurt by the way Karissa had treated me that afternoon, I still thought that I might want to talk to her again.

"You said you understood about today, though," I reminded him.

"I do understand. But I don't want you to do it again."

"You mean, if she's trying to talk to me, that I should just ignore her, and walk away?" I asked.

"That's what I mean."

"Well, okay," I said reluctantly.

"I'm not concerned with what's polite, as much as I am about safety for you," Adam said.

"She's not dangerous, or anything like that," I told him.

"Well. I hope that's right. But since I don't know that for certain, I want you to listen to what I'm sayin'," Adam insisted.

"Okay."

"Okay," he echoed. He leaned forward and kissed my forehead. "Goodnight."

"Night," I answered.

At the door of my bedroom, I said, "Adam?" and he turned from the head of the stairs to look back at me.

"Yeah?"

"Is somebody going to drive me to class tomorrow night?" I asked.

Adam tilted his head a little. "Why?"

"I just wondered, is all. I know everybody's pretty busy."

"What you really mean is, is somebody going to drive you, or do you get to drive yourself? Right?" he asked knowingly.

I lifted my shoulders a little, feeling my face turn warm.

"You're grounded, remember?" he said.

"I remember."

"So you think four days into it, that I'm gonna change my mind? Is that it?"

"I wasn't asking you to change your mind," I said quietly. "Not exactly, anyway."

"That's good," Adam said, and raised his eyebrows at me. "Because I might add another week to the grounding. If you were to do that, I mean."

I looked at him, horrified at my mess up. I should have known better than to try to work Adam.

"Sorry," I said.

"Somebody will drive you to class. Alright?"

"Yes, Adam," I said, appropriately subdued.

"Goodnight, sugar," he said, giving me a knowing look.

"Goodnight."

7


	20. Treasures in a Trunk

When I came out of the school building the next afternoon, I so fully expected to see Karissa sitting there again, that I was surprised

that she was not. I was surprised, too, at the relief that I felt. Partly, I think because my feelings were still hurt by how she'd talked

and acted towards me. But, also, I knew that it would be really hard for me to abide by Adam's order. I was afraid

that when I had to make the decision to obey Adam and ignore her, or go against him and talk to her, my better judgement would

be in a battle against my willfulness.

After supper was over, I got my night class stuff together, and went back downstairs with my backpack.

"Is it time?" Adam asked me, coming thru the living room, with a cup of coffee in his hand.

I nodded, and he said, "Okay. I'll run you in."

So Adam drove me to the high school. We didn't talk a whole lot when we were driving. We were listening to the radio, and

after June Carter and Johnny Cash had finished their duet, I spoke up, "Karissa says it wasn't her that talked to

social services about us."

Instead of immediately disagreeing, Adam just said, "Hmm," sort of quietly.

"She says it was probably a neighbor, or somebody."

"It was Karissa, Harlie," he said, firmly.

"How do you know for sure?" I asked.

"Because Brian had a girlfriend at the time whose mother worked at the office. She told us."

"Oh," I said, properly subdued.

We were both quiet for a couple of minutes, and then he said, "I'm sure it's confusing for you, hearing totally different

things. But we wouldn't lie to you."

For the first time, it occurred to me that it must be hurtful to Adam, and Brian, too, that I would even think for a moment to take Karissa's word over theirs. I'd known her for such a short time. And they'd been there, all my life, being truthful with me.

"I know you wouldn't," I said, sorry that I'd brought it up. "I just didn't know that you knew for sure who it was."

He nodded slightly, but was quiet again.

At the high school, we arrived just as Miss Noel was getting out of her car in the parking lot.

I introduced Adam to her, and after a couple of minutes of small talk, he said goodbye, and left.

Since I was early, I helped Miss Noel set things up for class, and then we talked until other people started arriving.

Crane was the one to pick me up after class. He came into the classroom, where I was still talking to Miss Noel, and when I introduced them

to each other, they stood talking to each other. And smiling. Lots of smiling.

The rest of the week passed fairly quietly. School, and then chores. And getting ahead on my homework, since I didn't have much else to occupy my time. And, I had

plenty of time to pore over the photo albums. On Saturday morning, I went for a long horseback ride.

The rest of the morning I spent working on cleaning the tack. When my arm began to ache from it, I went up into the barn loft, laying down in the warm sun, and

looking out the door of the loft, watching the clouds drift by.

The loft was still pretty cluttered from when everything that had been in the attic had been toted out here, so that Brian and Clare could move in up there.

I started looking thru the boxes that were filled with old newspaper clippings, and books. Some of the clippings were of my brothers in their younger years. Brian and Adam in Little League baseball, Evan in a Junior Rodeo competition, complete in mini chaps.

The heavy steamer trunk, stuck into a far corner, caught my interest. It had been years since I'd looked inside of it. I had trouble getting the clasp on the lid to open. I pushed and pulled, breaking two fingernails in the process.

When I heard someone down below, coming into the barn, I leaned over the edge of the ladder, looking down.

"Evan!" I said, and he jumped, startled.

"What! I didn't know you were up there," he said.

"Can you come up here and help me open something?" I asked him.

"I thought you were out here workin' on the tack," he said.

I heaved a huge sigh. "I have been. All morning. I'm just taking a little break. Good grief, Ev!"

"Okay, okay. I just asked. Don't get your bloomers in a bunch."

"Will you come up here? Please?" I asked.

"What for?"

"It will take you two seconds. Do you not have two seconds to spare for your only sister?"

He sighed and climbed the ladder, muttering. "Okay. Two seconds. What is it?"

I pointed at the trunk. "I can't get it open."

Evan walked over to the trunk, and started trying to open it.

"It's stuck," he said, and I rolled my eyes heavenward.

"What was your first clue, Sherlock?" I asked, impatiently.

"Do you want my help or not?" he asked.

"Okay. Sorry."

Evan took his pocketknife out of the front pocket of his jeans, and after twisting the blade into the clasp for a few minutes, he opened it.

"There you go," he said.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." He stood there, watching as I lifted the heavy lid.

"What are you doin'?" he asked.

"Just looking at stuff," I said, as I sank to my knees in front of the trunk.

"Why do you wanna spend your time doin' that?" he asked.

"Because. I like doing it. I want to know things." I said, as I started lifting something that looked like a tablecloth off of the top.

I was so involved in uncovering things that I didn't even notice when Evan had gone back down the ladder.

Underneath the tablecloth, there was a dress. I shook it out, stood up, holding it up against me. It was old-fashioned, but knowing that it had probably been

my mom's made it appealing to me.

There were more pictures mixed into the trunk, some in stacks contained by rubber bands, and some loose. There were some baby items, Adam and Brian's hospital

wristbands from when they were born, and a tiny baby hairbrush. Baby blankets, which I laid aside, thinking that Hannah might like them for Isaac. There were some things of Guthrie and mine, too. A book of nursery rhymes that had words written in the front of it.

"For my precious little ones,

Guthrie James and Harlie Marie,

I wish for hours of reading these

rhymes to you both.

Merry Christmas, 1970

Love, Mama

I leafed thru the familiar rhymes, 'Old Mother Hubbard', and 'Jack Spratt', wondering if she had, in fact, sat for many hours reading to Guthrie and I. I wished that it was possible to

remember things that happened when a person was just a baby, or toddler. I sat the book aside, too, on top of the baby blankets. My mom would like it, I thought, if Adam read to Isaac from it.

Letters, bound by paper clips and rubber bands, which I added to my pile to read later on. At the bottom of the trunk, was a slim book, pale yellow, and really worn looking. I took it out, and opened it, to the inside page, which read, "Kate Newman". The name 'Newman' had been marked out, and 'McFadden' had been written in its' place.

I knew, even without looking any further, that this had been a diary, a journal of my mother's. My heart kind of leaped in excitement. I couldn't believe my luck! To think that I would be able to read my mom's personal thoughts and feelings!

I stuffed the dress and tablecloth back into the trunk and closed the lid, and then picked up my stack of the blankets and nursery rhyme book, the letters, and the yellow journal, and scrambled down the ladder steps, excited beyond belief.

7

Hannah was glad to see the blankets and the nursery rhyme book. She sat down at the kitchen table, carefully unfolding the blankets, and looking at them.

"Oh, these are so special," she said. "They might have been Adam's."

Guthrie, who was sitting there, looking at the nursery book, said, "Yeah. And Brian's. And Crane's. And Daniel's. And-"

"Okay, cowboy," Hannah said, reaching out to give Guthrie's arm a light punch.

"It's cool though," Guthrie said. "Findin' a book that Mom got for me and Har like this."

"That's not all, either," I said, holding up the letters and the yellow book. "I think this is a journal that Mom kept."

"Oh," Hannah said. "If it is, that would be such a precious thing for you to have, Harlie."

"I know," I said, holding the book to my chest reverently.

When everybody started coming inside to eat lunch, I went upstairs to put the letters and journal in my bedroom. I planned to eat a quick, very quick, lunch, and

then take the journal outside somewhere to start reading it.

That's not the way it happened, though. During lunch, and a discussion over what needed to be done that afternoon, I got assigned to go along with Adam and Brian

to fetch and carry while they fixed some fence.

Even though I was super anxious and excited to begin reading the journal, I didn't mind so much going to help them. To me, it's always a winning day to be outside

in the sunshine. I sat between them as we bounced along in the truck to the spot where they were going to repair fence. It was warm enough that the windows were down, and I was glad I'd thought to wear a ball cap to help hold my hair back.

For the first half hour or so, I was busy carrying fence posts, and going back and forth to the truck to get tools for them, or going to fetch the water jug.

I told them both about my discovery of the letters and the journal of our mom. I was so animated that I was chattering pretty much non-stop about

it.

"That's somethin' alright," Adam said, but I thought he sounded sort of reserved, as if he wasn't stating his whole opinion.

"It's amazing, is what it is!" I said, still enthusiastic.

After a few minutes, Adam spoke up again. "You know, sugar, Mom was pretty special."

He said it in an off-hand type of way, and I looked at him, wrinkling my forehead, puzzled. "I know. I can tell that by the way you all talk about her."

Adam and Brian exchanged a look between them, and then Adam said, "Sometimes, when a person writes things down in a journal like that, it covers feelings that

may not be so in keepin' with what their personality seems to be."

He held out his hand for the fence snips I was holding, and I handed them to him. I was still puzzled by what he was getting at.

"What I'm tryin' to say is, Mom was a real person. She had her bad days, too, just like everybody else."

I nodded a little. "I understand that."

"So there might be things written in there that might be surprising to you. That's the point I'm tryin' to make."

Oh. Now I got it. He didn't want me to be shocked or disappointed by anything that our mom might have written in the journal.

"I'm not that shallow, Adam," I said. "I wouldn't think less of Mom if she wrote down something when she was feeling angry, or whatever."

"I wasn't tryin' to say that I think you're shallow, Harlie," he said.

"Okay," I said. And then, without really thinking it out, I asked, "Did you call Karissa to talk to her?"

Brian straightened to his full height from where he'd been digging new holes with the post-hole digger, and both he and Adam pinned their eyes on me.

"Why are you askin' me that?" Adam asked, sounding irritated.

"I just wondered," I said, vaguely. "You said to leave you the number-I was just curious."

"Right now that's not anything that you need to be concerned about. What does or doesn't happen with her from here on out is between her and Brian and I," Adam said, effectively putting an end to the conversation about Karissa.

I stared at him a moment, surprised by his vehement answer.

"In other words," Brian said, "it's not your business. Got it, peach?"

Wow. I could hardly take in how mean they were being. Bullies. Both of them. Well, maybe not bullies, exactly. Grouches for definite sure, though.

"Got it," I said, and went off to the truck, under the guise of getting a drink, and emptying dirt from my boots, but really, just to sit there and sulk. I would have kept sitting there, too, except for a high-pitched whistle, and when I looked in their direction, Brian was waving me back over to help.

I kept quiet the rest of the afternoon, doing whatever they told me to do, but determined to keep my mouth shut.

As we rattled back down the hills in the truck towards the house and barn, I was still silent. I was picking at my dirty fingernails, thinking that I needed a manicure. Lost in my own thoughts, I was surprised when Brian gave my leg a tap.

"What?" I asked, looking up at him.

"There," he said, pointing off to the west, outside of Adam's window. When I looked in that direction, I saw a fox, running across the grasses of the field. Running behind it was a baby fox.

For a moment I thought how much Doc G would have liked seeing that. It's not that common to see foxes in our area.

Then I remembered I was irritated with both of them. Brian, and Adam, too. So I only nodded, and went back to scraping at my fingernails.

At the barn, Evan greeted us with something about some of the hay being moldy. I didn't really pay close attention to exactly what he was saying. Adam ambled off with Evan and I climbed out of the truck after Brian. I was startled when he halted me with a grasp on the back of my jacket. While he kept his hand wrapped around a chunk of the material in the center of my back, I turned to look at him, questioningly.

"The pouting is ridiculous, don't you think?" he said.

"I'm not pouting," I denied, with dignity. I made an attempt to free myself from his hold, but all that did was cause him to tighten his grasp.

"I recognize pouting when I see it," he insisted.

"I was just being quiet. Keeping my mouth shut," I informed him.

"Yeah? I'm not sayin' that's a bad idea, mind you, but how come?" he asked.

I shrugged, and tried to pull out of his hold again, only to be pulled back.

"I'm not a yo-yo," I told him.

"Then stop tryin' to pull loose."

I gave up my resistance and stood still. "I'm just tired," I said, as an excuse. "And I think I need to eat something. I'm starting to get a headache."

It had been a long time since I'd used the 'diabetes' excuse to get out of something. It had always worked with Crane. And usually with Adam, too. Brian, however, just gave me a knowing look.

"Well, go on inside then, for sure," he said, "and get something to eat." He loosened his hold and just when I thought he'd let go, I was startled by a hard swat on the seat of my jeans.

It was so sudden that I squealed a little. "What's that for?" I asked, rubbing at the sting.

"Just practicing," he said, and I looked at him tremulously, not so certain that he was joking.

7

I spent the early part of the evening in my room, reading the first few pages of the journal.

" December 18, 1953

Today was the longest day ever. I couldn't concentrate in class at all. I only got a C- on my last biology exam.

Mom was sick again this morning. I wish she'd take better care of herself. Of course, Margie used it as an

excuse to take over, and start bossing Pop and I around.

The winter formal is this weekend. I think it will be fun. I just think that Bart feels we are "more than

friends". And I don't think of him that way. Not at all.

I wish I had the nerve to invite Adam to go with me. Of course, he wouldn't want to attend such

a juvenile thing as a high school winter formal. He's sooo handsome! I just need to convince him

that we need to be together. That I'm not too young for him.

Will write more later.

Kate"

7

What an insight to my mom as a 16 year old! She'd worried about her grades. And she'd called her dad 'Pop'. She'd resented it when Karissa, who I assumed was

'Margie', tried to boss her around. She'd wondered how to let a guy know that she didn't think of him as a boyfriend.

And most importantly, she'd known that she and my dad had belonged together.

So, my dad had thought he was too old for her, huh? Interesting.

For some reason, that made my thoughts stray to Eddie.

7


	21. Honesty is the best policy

I read several more of the daily entries in the journal. Enough to know that my mom had not let Bart kiss her

goodnight after the winter formal dance. Enough to know that when she got tired of 'Margie' lecturing her about

something, she just acted as though she was listening until "Margie-Karissa" stopped talking.

Enough to know that she walked to the corner that Adam McFadden drove by every afternoon, hoping to

have the chance to talk to him.

7

I heard the shrill ringing of the telephone downstairs, and then the sounds of footsteps on the wooden floors, and laughter.

"Harlie!" Crane called up the stairs.

I went out into the hallway, and to the top of the stairs, peering over the bannister at him.

"Time for supper?" I asked.

"Almost. Come on down to the phone."

I knew even before he told me, even before I protested, who it was that was on the telephone.

"I'm not allowed to talk on the phone," I said primly.

"It's Daniel," Crane said, holding the receiver out, and shaking it a little.

"Adam said I'm grounded from the phone," I repeated.

"That doesn't include Daniel. And you know it. Come on."

I stood where I was, looking over at Crane, my thoughts spinning with a way to get out of talking to Daniel. Who knew what he

was going to say to me, after the way I'd hung up on him last Sunday?

"Tell him I'm busy, but that I said hello," I said.

Crane's expression went from irritated to downright pissed off.

"Harlie," he said. That was all. He didn't raise his voice. Not an octave, even. He didn't have to. I sighed, and went

down the stairs, to take the phone receiver from Crane's hand.

As soon as I'd taken it from him, he turned to go back towards the kitchen. I sighed again, and put the phone up to

my ear.

"Hi, Daniel," I said, quietly.

"Hi." His voice was quiet, too. "How are you?"

"Okay."

"You're a hard girl to get ahold of."

I knew he was referring to the times he'd called over the last week, and I'd managed to find an excuse to make

myself scarce and unavailable to talk to him.

I didn't know what to say to that, so I was silent, biting my lip.

"How come you don't want to talk to me?" he asked, into the uncomfortable silence.

"I figured you were mad at me."

"Yeah. Well, I was. But that's all the more reason that we should talk, don't you think?" he asked.

"I guess," I said reluctantly.

"I've got somethin' to say to you. And I want you to hear me out."

I was silent, twisting the telephone cord around my fingers.

"Harlie?" he prompted me.

"Yes. Okay."

"First of all, I don't appreciate you hangin' up on me like you did. That was uncalled for."

"I was sorry as soon as I did it," I offered.

"They why didn't you pick up when I called back, and tell me that, instead of ignoring me?"

"I don't know," I said, feeling miserable. "I should have."

"Yeah. You should have. If somethin's bothering you, you can tell me, you know. You don't have to get all weird about it, and

act like a brat."

I was silent again. I didn't like Daniel calling me a brat. And weird, too.

After a couple of moments, Daniel said, "Harlie?"

"I'm here."

"I thought maybe you hung up on me again," he said, and I thought I heard a little humor in his voice.

"I wouldn't do that again," I said, entirely seriously, and began to cry, although I was determined that he wouldn't know I was.

"Good to know," he said. And then, "So now is it your turn to be the one that's mad? Because I'm gettin' onto you?"

"I'm not mad," I said. I knew I deserved Daniel telling me off. And I knew it was fortunate that he hadn't been able to get his hands on me on Sunday.

"You're not, huh?" he asked.

"No." I hesitated. "I'm sorry for acting that way to you on the phone."

"I accept your apology." After a moment, he added, "How come you're cryin'?"

"I've been feeling bad all week about you-" I told him.

"You could have called me."

"Yeah," I said, sniffling and wiping my cheeks. "I'm sorry."

"You said that. I said okay. Now, I've only got a few more minutes left to talk. Let's talk about somethin' else."

So I told him about school, and my night class, and a little about Karissa.

"Yeah. Crane told me about that. It sounds like a real complicated situation."

"It is. It's kind of a mess," I said.

"I remember that day when she crashed into the fence. Evan and I weren't there when it happened, but I remember

hearing about it later," he told me.

"You mean from Brian and Adam?" I asked.

"Yeah. And Ford cried that whole evening."

"He did?" I asked, feeling bad for Ford, as a scared little five year old.

"Then, when the social services people came out to talk to us, it really scared me and Evan. They separated us from each other, and from Adam and Brian and Crane, too."

"Why did they do that?" I asked, horrified.

"To see if we told the same story, I guess. Askin' us all sorts of stuff about our home life, and whether they were taking good care of us. All of that."

"That's terrible," I said, suddenly angry at Karissa for causing such upheaval to the boys, when they'd been thru so much already.

"Yeah. It was a bad time." Daniel was quiet for a moment, and then he said, "Well, I've gotta get going."

Now that we had talked things thru, and made up, I was reluctant to let Daniel go.

"I'm lonesome for you," I admitted.

"Right back at ya, kiddo," he said, and then added, "I love you. Be good. I'll talk to you soon."

"Love you, too," I said. "Bye, Daniel."

"Bye, squirt."

7

After supper, Guthrie and I were on dishwashing duty. As we cleaned up the kitchen together, Guthrie told me he was taking Kristin out to eat and to the movies.

"Kenny wanted you to come," Guthrie said. "He was gonna call you up, but I told him you couldn't go."

"What did he say?" I asked.

"He said he'll talk to you at school about goin' out in a couple weeks."

"Okay."

"I heard somethin' in town today, when I went to get feed," he said, his tone casual.

"What did you hear?"

Guthrie hesitated, and I could tell that he didn't really want to say whatever it was.

He dried the last bit of silverware, and put it in the drawer, hanging the dishtowel over the rack.

"What, Guth?" I prompted, impatiently.

"There's talk around town of a new vet comin' in to Murphys."

"Oh." Instantly I felt a flash of pain inside. I reached into the dishwater to pull the plug so the water would run out, trying to push my grief aside.

"Who is it?" I asked. "I mean, are they young or old, or what?"

"I don't know about that. There was one thing about it, though. Kind of different."

"What?"

"I heard it's a female veterinarian," Guthrie said.

For a moment I stared at Guthrie, then I wiped my wet hands on my jeans. "Oh. Well, when is she coming?"

"I don't know. I'm not even sure if it's true or not. Could just be gossip. You know."

"Yeah," I agreed vaguely, thinking.

"I just wanted to be the one to tell ya," Guthrie said. "So you didn't hear it at school, or somethin'."

"Yeah," I said. I gave him a sad smile. "It had to happen sometime. Right?"

"Yeah." He regarded me soberly for a minute. "I'm sorry, Har."

I nodded. And thought what a great brother he really was. I reached out and gave his hair a gentle tug. "Thanks for telling me," I said.

"Maybe Adam would let you go out tonight," he suggested, abruptly changing the subject.

"No. He won't. He got really irritated when I just barely hinted at wanting to drive Wednesday night. Don't even bring it up."

"Okay. Well, I gotta go shower and change clothes," he said and went up the back stairs.

By the time I wandered into the living room, people were scattering for the evening. Evan was going out, and Crane was, too. I watched as Crane came

down the stairs, wearing what looked like a new shirt, and his good boots.

Clare let out a wolf whistle, and Crane played along with it. "Why, thank you," he said.

"You look real pretty," Brian teased him, from where he sat on the loveseat with Clare.

"Big evening planned with Lila?" Hannah asked, from her spot on the couch with Adam.

"No. Actually Lila and I decided to call it done," Crane said.

I was surprised by his comment about breaking up with Lila, as was everybody else, too, I could tell.

"Oh, Crane, that's too bad," Hannah said, looking concerned.

"It's okay. It was mutual," Crane said.

I could tell Hannah was really curious about Crane's breakup with Lila, and I was, too, but I kept quiet, hoping Hannah would be the one to speak up and ask questions.

"Well, I hope you have a good time tonight," Hannah said.

"I really like that shirt on you," Clare added. "You'll knock all the ladies dead."

"Or a certain lady, anyway," Hannah said.

"Alright, you two, leave Crane alone," Adam said, with amusement in his voice. "If he wants to keep his date a mystery, then let him."

"It's not necessarily a mystery," Crane said. "Just private for right now."

Both Hannah and Clare looked disappointed, and I had to admit that I was, too.

"You two," Brian said, with a laugh.

After Crane had gone, I went to get my notebook off the desk, and curled up in the big recliner, with my feet tucked underneath me. I began scribbling on another

project for my night class. When Guthrie came downstairs, he got told how nice he looked, too, and then got the customary cautions from Hannah.

"Call if you're going to be late," she told him.

"I will."

"Tell Kristin we miss her."

"Okay."

"Both of you wear your seat belts," she added.

"Yes, ma'm," Guthrie said, and leaned down to kiss her cheek. "See ya'll later."

Everybody said goodbye to him, and when he'd gone, they all four went back to what they'd been doing. Clare was reading from one of her medical books, and

Hannah, Adam and Brian were reading various sections of the newspaper. I sighed a little. It was so quiet. I had to admit that I would have liked to have gone out to the movies, too.

I was just sort of looking around the room in a vague way, thinking, when Adam lowered his paper a little, and said, "Homework?"

"Not really. Just something extra for the night class."

"You've pretty nearly got all caught up with everything, haven't you?"

"Yeah. Pretty much."

"That's what all the extra time at home is good for, huh, peach?" Brian offered into the conversation.

I knew he was teasing, and trying to poke at me a little about being grounded. I was determined not to rise to the bait.

"That's what I hear," I said, airily.

Brian grinned at me and went back to his newspaper reading.

"Do you think you're doing well in your class?" Hannah asked me.

"I think so. The last time I checked I had a high B."

"That's good."

"They offer lots of classes, even in the summer. Maybe I should think about taking a science one then," I said.

Hannah looked at Adam. "Well, that might be a good idea. What do you think, hon?"

Adam looked considering. "At the high school?" he asked.

"Well, in the summer I think they have them in Stockton, at Heald College," I said.

"Let's wait until closer to summer to talk about it," he said.

I sighed. This, I was sure, had something to do with the reason that I was grounded. He probably thought I would go completely wild with the freedom of driving to Stockton on long summer nights, and not even go to class. He probably pictured me getting up to all sorts of irresponsible craziness.

I suddenly wished that we could have a really long talk, just him and me. About lots of things. I watched him, working up

my nerve to ask him if we could go for a walk together, or something.

Before I could, though, the phone started ringing, and he went to answer it. I thought I could tell from his end of the conversation

that it was a neighbor, or somebody from the Cattlemen's Association, wanting to talk about something related to that.

I went up to my room and got the journal of my mom's, and went outside onto the front porch, opening to where I'd paused at.

("January 27, 1954

Today I stayed with Mom until Pop got home from work. Mom is so tired all the time. She says she's fine, but

I know she's not.

This afternoon I hiked down to the feed store. Adam usually comes in every Saturday to pick up feed for the rancher he's working

for. I was determined to see him. And I did! He saw me sitting there, waiting outside the store on a bench. When he was done loading

the truck he came over to me. Here's what he said to me!

'Kind of cold to be sittin' out here, isn't it?'

Well, I was so proud of myself, because I said, 'It surely is cold. How about giving a girl a ride home, Adam McFadden?'

And you won't believe what that rascal said! He sort of leaned down, with his face really close to mine, and said, 'What

girl would that be, Katie?'

Well, I could hardly breathe, with him so close to me that way. But I managed to say, 'Me'. And he laughed, and gave me a

ride home. We took the long way, and we talked.

I think it was the best afternoon of my whole life.

Kate")

I was smiling to myself by the time I reached that last line. ('I think it was the best afternoon of my whole life'.) And practically pinning my dad down so he would drive her home!

My mom sounded as though she'd been spunky, and full of life. And sure, very very sure, that Adam McFadden was the right guy for her.

I heard the door opening behind me, and I turned a little to see Adam stepping out onto the porch.

"Everything okay?" he asked me.

"Yeah. I just came out to read some more of Mom's journal."

"Ahh," he said. "Is it as special as you thought it would be?"

"Better," I said simply.

"That's good. I'm glad."

After a couple of quiet moments he said, "It's gettin' chilly out here. You comin' in?"

"In a while. I thought I'd sit and watch the sunset."

"Okay." He hesitated a moment, and then turned to go back inside.

It was now or never, I thought.

"Will you sit out here for awhile with me?" I asked.

I don't know if he was surprised by my request, or not, but he gave me a half-smile, and said,

"I never turn down a chance to sit with a pretty girl and watch a sunset." And then

he sat down beside me on the step, stretching his long legs out in front of him.

We sat in quiet for a few minutes, watching the baby cows scamper and play in the pasture.

"Guthrie says he heard there might be a new vet coming," I said, sort of quietly.

"It's makin' the rounds of gossip around town, for sure." he said.

I thought suddenly that as a board member of the Cattlemen's Association that he would, of course, likely know about it.

"Is it true?" I asked.

"I don't think anything's written in stone yet. But it's a strong possibility."

"Oh." I thought about that for a moment. "Guthrie says it's a female veterinarian. Is that part true, too?"

"That's the strongest applicant. A woman, yeah."

"Is she young?" I asked.

"About thirty, I think."

I sighed. "I don't like to think of anyone else in Doc G's office, using his things."

"He'd want folks around here to have someone to care for their animals, wouldn't he?" Adam asked.

That was one of those questions that adults ask that's not really a question at all. More of a statement, to jolt you into recognizing a point.

"Yes. He would," I said, in honesty.

"But that doesn't make it any easier for you. I understand that," Adam said.

I gave him a wan smile. And we were quiet again, watching as the sun inched lower into the sky.

"Will you trust me again?" I asked, in a sudden burst of nerve, keeping my eyes on the pasture, and not on him.

There was a long moment of silence, and then I heard Adam sigh. As if he was tired. "Harlie." he said.

"I'm not trying to fuss with you. I just want you to be able to, that's all," I tried to explain.

"Trust isn't something that's gone, and then just comes back, with a snap of your fingers. It takes awhile," he told me.

"That's why I told you about the package. And about what I talked to Karissa about on Tuesday night. I wanted you to know I was trying," I reminded him.

"And I recognize that," he said.

I felt frustrated by his answer. "What can I do? To help it along?" I felt almost tearful over trying to get thru to him.

"Look at me," he ordered.

When I turned to meet his eyes, he said, quietly, "What's this really about, Harlie?"

I bit at my lip, trying to choose my words. "I just wanna have your trust. I don't like feeling as though I don't have it. It makes me feel-" I hesitated, thinking. "Feel like-just low inside. And sad."

Adam was quiet, looking out towards the pasture again.

"Next to love, trust is just about the most valuable thing that you can give another person. It's precious. Almost sacred," he said.

His words nearly hurt me, as obvious as it was that they came from his heart.

"I know there's worse things that a teenager can lie about, than bein' somewhere they shouldn't be, like you were. And not tellin' us about Karissa for so long, well, there's worse things

than that, too. But the main thing about it all is, if you start bein' deceitful, even over small things, like the party, then they get bigger, like the thing with Karissa. Then before you even realize, you're caring

less and less about whether other people trust you. And that changes the person who you should be." He looked back at me again. "The person that I want you to grow to be."

I swallowed, kind of hard, and tried to resist the tears that were threatening.

"Do you understand what I'm tryin' to say?" Adam asked me.

I nodded, feeling emotional.

"Okay. Good," he said, and reached over to pat my knee. "Keep on bein' straight up honest with me. That's the best thing that you can do to regain trust."

"Okay," I managed.

The sun was nearly down now. I shivered a little, and Adam noticed. "Let's go inside, if you're cold."

"Not yet," I said. "Please, Adam." There was something else I wanted to say to him, and I wanted to do it where no one else could hear. "I want to ask you something."

"Okay," he said, waiting for me to speak.

I gathered my thoughts, wondering if what I was getting ready to do was totally insane and stupid of me. I mean, how many teenagers actually confess to something

when they don't have to?

"If I were to tell you something, something that you don't know about, would that help show you that I'm really trying to be honest?" I asked him.

Adam raised his eyebrows, and shook his head a little, as if to clear it. "That's a mouthful," he said.

"Would it?" I persisted.

"I don't know, sugar. What's it about?"

"It's about me."

"Something that you've done?" he asked.

"Yes."

Adam frowned, looking as though he was considering. "What?"

"Will it show you, though? That I'm serious about being truthful with you?" I persisted.

"How am I supposed to know that?" he asked, sounding impatient.

"Because." I thrust about for the words to convince him. "If I tell you, it's even with knowing you might give me more punishment. And what kind of an

idiot would I be to do that, unless it was for a really important reason?"

Adam looked a little stunned. "Okay, Harlie. It will show me that you're serious. What is it?"

I bit my lip a little. "When I met up with Karissa before class a couple weeks ago? I went with her to Modesto to eat supper."

Adam's stunned expression widened. "You did?"

I nodded. "And I was late to class," I finished, figuring he might as well know it all. I stopped just short of telling him how much she'd drank, though.

That would only worry him.

Now that it was out, I waited, watching his face. He wasn't happy. Not at all. I could tell that by the way the muscles at the side

of his jaw were working in and out.

The sun slipped away, in the sky of the west, and I was still waiting for Adam to say something.

7


	22. Green eyes and a foot in the mouth

A lot of thoughts and emotions went thru me while I waited for Adam to say something.

Part of me was sorry that I'd told him. I mean, it was a little like poking a sleeping bear. Why

do it when it most likely will end badly?

The other part of me, though, wasn't sorry. I was determined to prove that I was serious about

wanting his trust. If it ended with him being angry again at me, then I would just have to face that.

It was hard being patient, but I tucked my knees up to my chest, and wrapped my arms around

them, waiting.

"This really does worry me, Harlie," he said finally. "You hardly knew her, and you just went with her

like that?"

I wanted to point out that Modesto wasn't that far, not really. But I kept quiet. Silence was, I thought,

my best defense right now.

"It wasn't smart," he went on. "Not at all."

"I realize that now," I admitted. "At the time, I was only thinking of hearing about Mom."

Adam looked at me straight-on, his eyes locking with mine.

"Is that all?" he asked. "Or is there more that I should know about?"

"Yes," I said, and then saw that he'd misunderstood, as his eyebrows raised. "I mean,

no, there's nothing else," I added hastily.

He continued watching me, looking serious, and I said lightly, with an attempt at levity,

"That's the sum total of my horrific crimes."

Adam appeared unamused at my humor. His next words proved that he wasn't impressed.

"I thought you were serious about this."

"I am!" I assured him, sorry that I'd made such a stupid joke.

He leaned forward slightly, lacing his fingers together, and looking off towards the pasture again.

"I didn't know her that well, but what I did know, it didn't seem as though she was ever very stable," Adam said.

Stable? "You mean like having a job? Because she has. She sells real estate," I said.

"No, that's not what I mean. I meant mentally. Emotionally."

"Oh." I thought for a moment. "She's getting divorced."

"Well, that by itself isn't enough to prove instability. Lots of folks get divorced," he said.

"She's been married several times," I shared, and then wondered if I should have,

because he nodded, and said, "That part doesn't really surprise me much."

"Why?" I asked, curious.

"She always seemed like a fairly high-maintenance lady. Not a lot of men can or will put up

with that."

"Oh," I said. Then I added, "So in other words, she was probably always bitchy to her husbands. Right?"

"I wasn't gonna use that word, but yeah, that covers it pretty well," Adam said, and I thought I saw a glimmer of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

Before I could rejoice in the fact that he didn't seem angry, and that he was even smiling a little, he asked, "Is she still drinking?"

I hesitated just the slightest moment, and he said, "You wouldn't know that. Never mind."

Aww, The moment of decision. Should I tell him about the wine she'd been drinking at the steak house the night we went out to eat? I decided to set about the touchy topic gradually, work up to it, and see how it went.

"Well," I said, hesitating a little, "You know when she came by the school?"

"You mean just the other day?" he asked.

"Yeah. When she got upset with me about giving the bracelet back."

"Right. What about it?"

"Well," I said again, "I think she might have been drinking that day."

"Yeah? How so?"

"She seemed a little unsteady on her feet."

"Hmm. Well, that could be caused by other things," Adam said, looking thoughtful.

"Uh huh," I said, wondering whether to go on.

We were both quiet for a few moments, watching as the sun slipped totally away.

"I've smelled alcohol on her breath," I said slowly.

"You have?" Adam asked, looking concerned.

"Uh huh," I said, again.

"Well, that's not good. Though I can't say I'm really surprised."

"I don't think she's a bad person, Adam. I mean, she's done some things that were wrong, like calling social services when we were all little,

and all of that, but she's been kind to me, too," I said.

"Well, you're an easy kid to be kind to," Adam said, and gave me a half-smile.

I sensed there was something more to his casual comment. "But?" I prompted him.

"But, I think she has another motive, besides being kind to you."

"Oh," I said, subdued.

"I'm not tryin' to hurt your feelings," he said. "I just don't trust her motives."

I nodded, feeling low, just thinking about it. I'd wanted to think that Karissa had really cared about me.

As if he could read my thoughts, Adam said, "I'm not saying that she doesn't have affection for you. She very well might. I just have a different view

of the whole thing than you do. I'm coming to it from a point of protection for you, and concern."

"I understand," I said quietly.

I thought for a moment, and then said, "I asked her about driving with Ford that time when he was little, and she said that she was taking some

medicine that made her dizzy, and that's what caused her to crash into the fence."

"So she denied any drinkin' at all," he said, sounding disgusted.

I thought back to the conversation I'd had with Karissa. "No, I don't think she did that. She admitted she'd had something to drink, but

said that wasn't the reason she had the accident, that it was the medicine."

"Uh huh," Adam said, drily.

"You don't believe her, do you?" I asked him, knowing that he did not.

"No. Not really."

"When you say you think she has another motive, besides being nice to me, what do you think it is?" I asked.

Adam was quiet for several moments, and then he said slowly, "I'm not really sure. It's more a feeling that I have, than anything else."

"Oh," I said.

Adam reached over and laid a hand on my knee. "Anything else you wanna talk about with me?"

I shook my head. "No. That's all."

"Okay," he said, and moved his hand. Then he gave me a long, serious look, and I knew he was considering what to do with my confession, about going out of town with Karissa when the family hadn't even known about her.

There was no point in dragging it out further.

"More punishment?" I asked him, dreading his answer.

"No, I don't think so," he said, and I looked at him, a little surprised, and glad, of course.

"Thank you," I said, and I meant it.

"Don't thank me just yet," Adam said, and I felt my stomach knot up again.

"How come?" I asked, looking at him tremulously.

"I understand how you were swept up into this whole thing, with her appearing out of the blue, and dangling information about Mom. It would

have been hard to resist that. I get it. But now that you have more information about why Brian and I have concerns, I expect you to wise up a

little."

His tone was set in scold mode, and I cringed inwardly.

"This is the end of the road to understanding. Next time it'll be temper highway," he warned.

"Okay."

"So you'll be a little smarter about things? Not get in a car with someone you hardly know, even if they say they're a relative?"

"Yes," I admitted.

"Even if they say they're an heir to a fortune they're gonna share with you?" Adam asked.

I shook my head at his attempt at humor. "Even then," I promised.

"Good."

I regarded him seriously. "Can I tell you one more thing?"

"What?"

"I really didn't have anything to drink at Miranda's last Friday. That was the truth."

Adam returned my serious gaze. "Okay," he said, and I could tell by the way he said it, that he believed me. And it felt good. Really, really good.

"It's been a good talk, sugar. I think we understand each other a little bit better," he said.

I nodded, giving him a grateful smile.

7

I felt better after my talk with Adam. So much better that I was able to finish out my grounding with a better attitude. The weather was getting warmer, and

we planned a BBQ for the weekend I was officially ungrounded.

I approached my first chance to drive again at breakfast on Saturday morning. I was sitting with Guthrie, eating cereal, when the kitchen began to fill up.

"What are you two up and about so early for?" Adam asked, passing behind us, and giving Guthrie's neck an affectionate squeeze.

"Fishin'," Guthrie mumbled around his Cornflakes.

"Aw," Adam said, going to pour himself a cup of coffee. He sat down at his end of the table, and surveyed us both.

"You going fishing, too?" he asked me.

"Maybe, later. I'm gonna help Hannah get the baby's laundry done first," I said.

"Good girl," Adam said, with an approving smile for me.

"Suck up," Guthrie muttered, and I stuck out my tongue at him.

Brian was at the stove, rattling pans, and starting bacon to sizzle in a skillet.

Hannah slid into her seat at the table, with a sigh.

"I think Isaac's got his days and nights all mixed up," she said, sounding tired.

"Try and take a nap today," Adam told her.

"I've got a lot to do," Hannah said. "There's all the laundry, and I promised to make a couple of pies for the women's group at church,

and there's grocery shopping to do again-"

"Hannah," Adam said, interrupting in the midst of her lengthy list of chores to be done.

"What?" she asked, looking down the table at him.

"Harlie said she'll help with the laundry. Make your pies this morning, and then you can take a nap this afternoon," Adam said.

"We'll see," she said, with a wave of her hand. "I've got to do some mending, too. Honestly, I don't know where the week has gone to. I haven't

gotten anything done-"

"Hannah," Adam said again, a little more forcefully this time.

"What?" she asked again.

"Stop."

"Stop what?" she asked, sounding cross. "I'm just talking about everything that I need to get done."

"Everything that needs to get done will get done," Adam said. "And the world won't fall apart if some of it has to wait."

Guthrie and I watched in interest as Adam's gaze met Hannah's down the length of the long kitchen table.

There was a long, really long, couple of moments of quiet as they surveyed one another. It seemed to me

that even though there were no words spoken, they were both saying a lot with their eyes, and their facial expressions.

Adam looked serious, a little stern, almost, and at first Hannah looked stubborn, then she finally gave him a small smile.

"Okay," she said. That was all she said, but it must have satisfied Adam, because he nodded a little, and then gave her a wink.

Evan and Crane came into the kitchen, and everybody started talking to each other. I was busy eating my cereal again,

when I looked up to find Hannah's attention focused on me.

"Harlie," she said.

"Huh?"

"Is cold cereal what you should be eating?" she asked, looking at my bowl of Cornflakes with concern. "That has so much sugar."

"I didn't add any more sugar to it," I defended myself.

"Well, you could have had oatmeal, or something," she went on.

I shrugged a little. I could have said a lot of things to her. I could have said that I get tired of oatmeal. That I miss eating Fruit Loops and all

the other cold cereals. That one morning of Cornflakes wasn't going to make me go into a diabetic shock. But I didn't say any of those things.

I didn't want to start a big thing with her.

At my shrug, she sighed a little, and then patted my hand and didn't say anymore.

After Guthrie and I had put our bowls into the sink, he headed outside. I paused beside Adam's chair, as he pushed away from the

table, finishing the last of his coffee with a long swallow.

"Adam?"

"What?" he asked, standing up.

"I could go to the grocery store for Hannah. And get the feed, too." As he looked down at me, I said, "If you want me to, I mean."

Adam looked at me for a long moment, as if he was studying my face.

"Well," he said, looking down the table at Hannah, and towards Brian. "I guess that'd be alright." He held my gaze for

another second. "Anywhere else you plan on going? Besides the store and the Co-op for feed?"

I understood what he was getting at, and I felt my face get a little warm.

"No. Nowhere else."

"Okay, then. We'll get you a list of feed," Adam said.

"And I'll get the grocery list ready for you," Hannah added.

"Okay," I said, excited beyond belief simply at the thought of being able to drive my truck again.

7

I took my time driving into town. I kept seeing deer sprinting across the fields, and I didn't want one to run in front of me. And

besides, the weather was beautiful and I was enjoying the smells of early Spring.

I got the feed first, drinking a bottle of grape Nehi from the pop machine while one of the guys that works there loaded the feed for me.

I went to the grocery store next, and tried my best to stick to Hannah's list, substituting for a couple of things that they were out of.

Bananas instead of strawberries, and two jugs of milk instead of three.

As I was going thru the checkout line, Misty Pope told me that the milk truck hadn't showed up that morning, thus the shortage of milk.

"You McFaddens need your own milk cow out there on the ranch," she said, with a giggle. "As much milk as ya'all go thru."

I smiled, even though I've heard the milk cow joke about a million times before over the years. Misty is kind of an airhead, in my opinion.

Pretty, but dumb.

"Did ya hear about the new vet?" she asked me, as she sacked up all the groceries.

I felt a pang. "Yeah, I heard," I said, hoping she would drop the subject.

"She's a real pretty lady," Misty chattered on.

"Great," I said.

"I mean, she's actually gorgeous," Misty specified. "When you see her you'll know what I'm talking about."

"I'm in no hurry," I muttered.

"She has the prettiest color of hair, and her eyelashes are so long, you just wouldn't believe it," Misty rattled on.

Honestly. Sometimes I had to wonder about the brain cells of certain people. I wished that I could wrinkle my nose like Bewitched

on television, and make Misty suddenly be struck mute, unable to speak at all.

"Sheep and horses don't much care how long the eyelashes are of the person giving them a shot in their butt," I said, with an edge to my voice.

"That's exactly right," a voice behind me said. "That's always been my opinion, as well."

I turned, embarrassed, to see who was standing behind me, overhearing our conversation, and I was seriously struck mute, myself,

by the honest-to-goodness greenest pair of eyes I've ever seen God set in a person's face.

The woman who those beautiful eyes belonged to, was dressed as if she'd been out mucking stalls all morning, and she gave me a smile.

"Hello. I'm Ivy Ramsey. I'm the new vet here in Murphys."

7


	23. Big shoes to fill

Misty Pope might be a little flighty. And silly. And even not-so-smart. But she has good eyesight. That's for sure. She wasn't lying when she

said that Ivy Ramsey was attractive. Beautiful.

I was so mortified that she had overheard what I'd said to Misty, about good looks and eyelashes, and not being in any hurry to meet her. I felt

my face flaming in embarrassment. It didn't help that Misty was giggling at my big mouth.

"Hello," I managed. "I'm Harlie McFadden."

Ivy Ramsey's face, which hadn't lost its friendliness, brightened even more. "Oh yes, Harlie!" she said. "I've heard about you."

Well, when someone says that, it can be a good thing, or a bad thing. But, considering that she was smiling and looked friendly, I didn't

think it was anything bad.

"Oh," I said, not really knowing what else to say.

"They were all good things," she said, as if she knew what I was thinking.

"That's good," I said, still embarrassed by my verbal guffaw.

Misty had finished sacking up my groceries and I handed her the money from my pocket, and then she counted out my change.

One of the bag boys, Jackson Waddell, stood, waiting for me, a sack of groceries in each arm. I picked up the two other bags, and headed

outside to the truck, Jackson following behind me. I was so deep in my thoughts that I was startled when Jackson said,

"Hey, Harlie?"

"Hmm?" I asked, shoving the sacks I was carrying over onto the passenger side of the truck seat.

"You goin' to the street dance next month?"

"Maybe," I said. "Probably." I took the two sacks he was holding and leaned into the truck, setting them on the floor of the truck cab. I

realized he was still standing there, watching me, and I smiled at him a little.

"How've you been?" he asked me.

"Oh, pretty good," I said. "How about you?"

"Okay." He looked flustered. "I was wondering, if you do come to the dance, if maybe you would dance a couple of

dances with me?"

I blinked at him, a little surprised. I hesitated a couple of seconds, and then said, "Well, sure, if I come, I will."

"Okay. That'd be great!" He was beaming at me, and I tried to think for a moment just how old he was now, exactly. I thought

he was a couple of years behind me in school, so eighth grade, maybe? Just a kid.

"Well," he said, sounding happy, "I'll see you, Harlie."

"See you," I echoed.

I was climbing up into the truck, fastening my seat belt, when I saw Ivy Ramsey come out of the store, carrying just one small

bag. She was heading to a black Chevy dually pickup parked out front. I hesitated just the merest of moments, and then

I undid my seat belt and got back out of the truck again.

Before I lost my nerve, I went over quickly to where she stood, opening the door to the truck.

She turned to look at me, smiling. "Hello, again," she said.

"Hi. I wanted to apologize for being rude, in the store."

I mean, what I thought was, even if she'd heard good things about me before, well now, after I'd shot off my big

mouth, she might think I was a real fresh kid. Doc G would be ashamed of me. He wouldn't agree with me being rude to whoever the new town veterinarian was,

whether male or female, or pleasant or unpleasant, or whatever. I could almost hear his voice in my head, saying something like, "No need not giving a

person a fair chance, Harlie Mac. She's here to do a job. You've no cause to give her a harsh welcome."

Ivy Ramsey tilted her head a little, looking thoughtful. "I wasn't insulted by what you said. Not at all."

"Oh. Well, that's good," I said.

We stood there, looking at each for a couple of moments. I guess, in a way, sizing each other up a little. I still wondered where she'd heard about me.

When we did speak, it was at the exact same moment, and we both stopped then, and she smiled again.

"You go first," she told me.

"I was just going to say that I'd probably better get going on home," I said, feeling awkward.

"Ah. Sure. I was going to ask you a couple of questions, but if you need to get going, maybe we could do it later sometime."

I was further surprised. And admittedly, I was curious.

"What questions?" I asked.

"Oh." She turned to set her sack of groceries in the truck seat. For the first time I glimpsed the furry poodle sitting in the seat. I could tell just by looking

that the poodle was old. He had the look of age in his eye, and his eyes were watery, as poodles tend to be. He was cute, though.

Ivy Ramsey let her hand rest on the dog's head.

She gave me a direct gaze. "I understand that you worked for the previous vet here."

I managed a nod.

"Doc G? That's what he was called?" she asked softly, her face kind.

"Yeah." I swallowed past the lump in my throat.

"He was certainly well thought of around the area."

I nodded again. "He was."

"I've some big shoes to try to fill," she said, sounding humble, and, despite myself, I felt a liking for her.

"I'm trying to figure out his bookkeeping," she continued then.

I found myself smiling just a little. "Yeah. He had his own system, for sure."

She reached out to scoop the poodle into her arms.

"This is Blue," she shared, and I reached out to pet the dog gently on the top of his head.

"He's cute," I said.

"He's my buddy," she said, and rubbed her chin over the top of Blue's head. "Aren't you, fella?"

Blue looked at her, with obvious adoration.

"I'd heard that you're interested in going into the veterinary field," she said then, and I again was surprised. Of course, there's a lot of ways she

could have gotten that information.

"Yeah. I am," I acknowledged, and again she seemed to read where my thoughts were.

"I met your brothers a couple of days ago," she said, enlightening me as to the source of her information. "At the Cattlemen's Association meeting."

"Adam," I said, and she nodded.

"Yes. Adam. And another one, too. I can't remember his name."

Since besides Adam, Brian, Crane and Evan are all members of the Association, too, I thought it could have been any one of them.

"Tall?" I asked, "with dark hair? Or not so tall, with red hair?"

"My goodness," she said, with a little laugh. "Actually, yes, very tall. But not dark."

"That's Crane," I determined.

"Wow. You have four brothers?"

"Seven," I said, and her eyebrows rose.

"Wow," she said again. "Where do you fit in?"

"The youngest."

"I'll bet you could tell some pretty good stories about growing up in a houseful like that," she said.

"Bunches," I confirmed.

"Well, Adam and I were talking, and he's the one that mentioned about you working with Doc G, and how you plan on pursuing a career in the field."

"Oh," I said, with a nod. Then, I added quietly, "I really liked it. Working for him."

"Adam said you did." She hesitated a moment. "He's very proud of you."

I was a little embarrassed. I shrugged. "I guess so."

"No guessing about it," she said, with certainty. "It was evident in the way he spoke of you."

I didn't know quite what to say, so I didn't say anything, and we stood, looking at each other again.

"Do you think you might be able to lend me a hand sometime?" she asked me then, and I felt my stomach give a little lurch. Part of me wanted to hear what she had

to say, and the other part wanted her to be quiet.

"If you understand some of Doc G's records and things," she went on. "Maybe you could clear some questions up for me."

"I don't know," I said, in hesitation, feeling several emotions all at once.

"I understand if you'd rather not," she said then, and put Blue back into the truck. She turned, and put out a hand to me.

"It was nice to meet you, Harlie," she said warmly, and I could tell she was sincere.

"Thank you," I said, taking her outstretched hand, and she shook it. Her handshake was firm, solid.

"If you decide to help, you can give me a call."

"Okay."

She got into the truck, and shut the door, looking at me thru the open window. "I'd better get to work," she said, and then, with the merest hint of a smile, she said,

"Big shoes, you know?"

I nodded, and she started the truck, and backed up, waving at me as she drove down the street.

7

I drove slowly on the way home, both to be careful, and also because I was thinking.

Despite my misgivings about anybody who happened to be Doc G's replacement, I didn't dislike Ivy Ramsey. In fact, there was something very likeable about her.

She was real, obvious from her dirty jeans and worn boots, and the caring she'd shown her dog. She was attractive, immensely so, but she didn't seem like the sort

of female who would only care about that. Obviously not, or she would have chosen a vocation that didn't involve getting animal blood or poop all over herself, sometimes

multiple times a day even.

I thought about going back into the office again, with its familiar sights, and smells. But no Doc G. I hadn't been inside since he'd died, and I wasn't at all

sure that I wanted to now.

As I drove into the driveway at home, and then up to the barn, I went ahead and backed up so that the feed would be easier to unload. I got

out, and was lowering the tailgate when Adam came around the corner, Evan and Guthrie on his heels.

"Made it back, huh?" Adam said to me, in greeting.

"Uh huh."

"Any problems?"

I knew he meant in general, like with the feed, or with my truck not running right, or any of that.

"No problems," I told him.

"Good deal," he said, and they all three began unloading the feed sacks.

"Are you gonna just stand there and look pretty?" Evan demanded. "Get up there and help."

I climbed up into the bed of my truck, and pushed the sacks off the top so that they could grab them easier.

When they were done, and it was all unloaded, and stacked against the wall of the barn, I sat down on the tailgate, letting my feet dangle.

"Did you get milk?" Guthrie asked me.

"I got two gallons. The milk truck didn't come today."

Guthrie went to the truck and opened the door, grabbing two of the sacks. "Come on, Evan," he said. "Help carry these inside. I wanna have some milk

with those brownies Hannah made."

Evan grumbled, but went to take the remaining two bags and follow Guthrie to the house.

"That boy will drink a gallon by himself," Adam said, and I shrugged with a smile.

"Most likely," I agreed.

Adam turned to go back into the barn, and I hopped down from the tailgate, following him.

I tagged after him, as he gathered up some tools, and a couple of boards, and went around to the side of the barn, where the glass had gotten broken

in one of the windows. I watched as he started taking the jagged pieces of glass out of the window frame, wiggling them a little to get them loose.

When he got one out, he dropped it into an coffee can setting on the ground.

I reached out, wiggling one, too, until it came out.

"You don't have gloves on," he said. "Let me do it, so you don't get cut."

I stepped away a little, until he said, "Hand me that putty knife, will you?"

I reached down into the small tool box, and took out the battered putty knife, handing it to him. He used it as leverage to tap out some of the glass.

"Lot of people in town today?" he asked, in conversation, as he worked.

"Just about usual," I said.

"Huh. You still plannin' on helping Hannah with the laundry?" he asked.

"Yeah. I will."

"Okay. Thank you."

"I don't mind," I said. After I watched him for a couple more minutes, I said, "I met the new vet."

"Did you?"

"Uh huh. We talked for a few minutes."

"That's good. It seems as though most folks are willing to give her a chance."

"But not all of them?" I asked.

"Well, you know how it is, when somebody comes into a small town like Murphys, and tries to do something that somebody else did

really well. People aren't always so welcoming or tolerant."

"Oh," I said, and for a moment I felt badly for Ivy.

"We have a real need for a vet around here, though," Adam went on. "So hopefully she'll get a warm welcome."

"Yeah, hopefully," I agreed, and took the putty knife from him as he handed it to me.

"Did you like her?" I asked, curious. "You and Crane?"

"Yeah. I did. And Crane did, too." He paused, and pulled off his leather gloves, sticking them into his back jeans pocket. "Did you?" he asked, turning the question

to me.

"Yeah," I admitted. "I didn't want to. You know what I mean?"

Adam gave me a half-smile of understanding. "I know what you mean."

As he went back to work, measuring, and then laying a board on the now open window, he began to nail it across the window.

"Aren't you going to replace the glass?" I asked him.

"When we get around to it. Until then, this is gonna have to do," he said, beginning to nail a second board up.

"She asked me if I'd come in to the office, and help her figure out some of Doc G's notes and records and things," I told him.

"She did?" Adam asked.

"Uh huh."

"Hold that for me, will you?" he asked, and I put my hands on the end of the board where he was pointing.

When he was done, he put the hammer back in the toolbox, and leaned against the wall of the barn.

"What'd you tell her?" he asked, looking serious, and I knew by the look on his face that he understood what a monumental thing this was to me.

"I didn't really say anything. I said I didn't know."

"Huh," he said, looking thoughtful, but his expression not really giving anything away, as to what he thought, one way or the other.

"I just don't know if I can go in there," I said slowly.

He nodded.

"It's stupid, huh?" I asked him.

"I don't think it's stupid at all. You'll know if it feels right."

"Okay," I said, sighing. After a moment, I said, "Sometimes I can almost hear Doc G. Like what he might say about something. Does that sound crazy?"

"I can hear Dad sometimes. When I'm trying to make a hard decision."

"You can?" I asked, feeling a gladness inside. "Really?"

"Really. So, to answer your question, no, I don't think it sounds crazy." He reached out and tapped my nose.

I smiled at him.

7


	24. Adam McFadden and the phone book

After supper that night, I went out to the barn, and started working on cleaning some more of the horse tack. I realized I was only

about halfway thru the job, and I sighed a little. It was a daunting task. Evan wandered out to the barn, and without saying much, began to work

alongside of me, rubbing oil into one of the saddles.

"You've done a good job," he said, after a while, into the silence.

I shrugged. "There's still a ton of it to do."

"Yeah. Well, still."

After a few minutes, I asked, curiously, "Don't you have a date tonight?"

"Yeah."

He didn't say anymore, and I worked a little more, and then said, "Ev?"

"What?"

"Can you tell me something about Mom? Something nice that you remember about her?"

Evan looked thoughtful for a moment, and I stopped working on the bridle I had in my hand, and turned my attention to him.

"She used to play hide and seek with us. Me and Daniel. And Ford," he said.

"That must have been fun," I said, a note of wistfulness in my voice.

Evan must have heard that bit of envy, bit of sadness in my tone, because he gave me a half-way smile, and rubbed my head for a minute

with his hand.

"Yeah. It was fun. She was a good mom," he said.

I nodded, and he said, "I guess all these years I never really thought about what it was like for you and Guthrie, not knowing her."

I nodded again. "I wish I could have. Known her, I mean."

"I wish you could have, too. I'm sorry, Har."

"It's not your fault."

"No. But I'm still sorry." He got to his feet. "What are you doin' tonight?"

"Nothing much, I don't think. Read some more of Mom's journal, maybe."

"You wanna go with me and Nancy? We're gonna grab some Chinese food, and maybe see a movie."

For a moment I was tempted. Then I shook my head. "No, thanks. You guys don't need me tagging along on your date."

"Don't be a dufus. Come on and go with us."

"No. But thanks, Ev. Really."

"Okay. Be a knothead," he said, with a shake of his head, and headed out of the barn. "See ya later."

"See you," I echoed.

I finished the bridle I'd been working on, and then put away all the cleaning supplies. Heading out of the barn, I nearly smacked

into Guthrie.

"Hey. I've been lookin' for you," he said. "Kenny called."

"Yeah?" I said, without much interest.

"Yeah. He wants to pick you up and meet up with me and Kristin at the movies."

"Oh," I said, with a little more interest. I hadn't seen Kristin except at school for a few weeks. "Kristin's off tonight?"

"Yeah. Finally," Guthrie said, happily. "You better go call him back if you wanna go."

"Okay."

I went inside, and called Kenny, who answered the phone on the first ring.

"Hi, Kenny."

"Hi, Harlie!" he said, sounding obviously glad.

"Guthrie says you called."

"Yeah. Want to take in a movie tonight?"

"Sure. That sounds good," I said.

We arranged a time for him to come pick me up, and then I went to the kitchen to find Adam or Hannah.

They were both there, sitting together at the kitchen table, talking, while Adam held Isaac in his arms.

I leaned down to kiss Isaac's forehead.

"Hi, sweetie," Hannah greeted me.

"Hi."

"What are you up to?" Adam asked, watching as I took an apple from the fruit bowl on the table.

"Kenny asked me to go to the movies," I offered.

"That's good," Hannah said, looking as though she was glad.

"You gonna meet up with Guthrie and Kristin?" Adam asked.

"Yeah. I think so," I said, pausing beside his chair. "Is it alright if I go?"

"Oh, I suppose so," Adam said, sounding as though he was reluctant, but I could tell he was teasing with me.

"Thanks," I said, with a grin.

"Home by eleven," he said then.

"Okay," I said, and Hannah smiled at me.

"You'd better go upstairs and clean up and change," Hannah told me, wrinkling her nose.

"Oh, fine," I said, "I can take a hint."

7

I had a good time that night. Kenny came to pick me up, making small talk with Adam and Hannah and Brian for a few minutes. I had changed to clean jeans and a green shirt, and

tied my hair back and put it in a casual bun at the top of my head. I didn't think my appearance was anything special, but as we walked down the front steps together, Kenny gave me an appreciative grin.

"You look nice," he told me.

"Thanks."

Brian stepped out onto the front porch after us. "Watch your speed, alright?" he said, obviously to Kenny.

I wrinkled my forehead at Kenny, hoping he didn't take offense at Brian's admonishment.

"I will," Kenny called back to Brian, not appearing to be insulted. I was surprised when Kenny took my hand, holding it as we walked the few feet to his truck. I mean, not that

there is such a big thing about holding someone's hand. It was just that Kenny had never made the attempt to do so before. And also the fact that he did it in within Brian's sight, is what surprised me.

We met Guthrie and Kristin in Angels Camp, ate at a burger place, and then went to see a movie. As we came out of the movie theater, I was walking beside Kristin, and we

were talking, when, there ahead of me, I saw Eddie waiting in line to buy tickets for the next movie. Plastered onto his arm, practically in his ribcage, was a girl. A really pretty girl, too.

My eyes met his, and for a moment I was a little disconcerted. For some totally insane, irrational reason, it felt weird to see him out with a girl, and for him to see me out with someone, too.

There was absolutely no sense to that at all. We weren't a couple. We weren't even dating casually, or anything like that. Still, it felt strange to me.

Eddie gave me a smile, and a casual wave. I waved back, just as casually. Kenny didn't seem to notice, but I saw the girl Eddie was with give me a quick, sharp glance.

Being a girl, too, and my best friend besides, Kristin saw the exchange between Eddie and I, and appreciated it. She nudged me in the ribs, and then gave me a grin.

When Kenny took me home, it was a quarter to eleven, and he pulled the truck up beside the house, switching off the headlights.

There were still lights on in the living room, and one upstairs, too.

"Somebody's still up," Kenny observed.

"Adam probably," I said.

"Does he always wait up for you?"

"Usually, he does." I shrugged a little, though in the dark truck cab, Kenny probably didn't see it. "He's protective."

"That's no joke," Kenny said, but there was no malice in his tone.

"Well, I guess I'd better get in," I said, after a few moments of silence.

We got out of the truck, and he walked with me up the front porch steps. "I'll see you at school Monday," he said.

"Okay."

"Okay," Kenny said, and then leaned in and gave me a quick kiss.

When I went inside, shutting the front door quietly behind me, it was to see Brian asleep on the couch, stretched out, with one arm folded behind his head.

I paused beside the couch, hesitating. I knew this wasn't Clare's night to work at the hospital, so he wasn't waiting up for her. It was me he was waiting for. I touched

his shoulder, and when he didn't stir, I tapped it lightly. He opened his eyes, looking up at me.

"Hey," he said, sitting up, and rubbing a hand over his eyes.

"Hey."

"What time is it?" he asked.

"Almost eleven."

"Mmmm," he said, sounding tired.

"You didn't have to wait up for me," I told him.

"Who says I was waitin' up for you?" he countered. He stood up, stretching, and then focused on my face. "You have fun?"

"Yeah. I did."

"Good. Guthrie comin' along soon?" he asked.

"As soon as he takes Kristin home, I think."

"Okay. I can get my tired old ass to bed then. If all you children are tucked up in your beds."

I shook my head at him, with a smile, and gave him a side hug.

We walked up the stairs together, and Brian left me in front of my bedroom door, with a sleepy sounding, "Night, peach."

7

Instead of going to sleep right away, though, I curled up in bed, and opened my mother's journal.

"February 8, 1954

I walked uptown today, to get Pop's medicine refilled at the pharmacy. He's been having some really bad

headaches lately. I was thinking about other things, and didn't notice that a truck had pulled up to the curb beside me, and

was driving slowly alongside. When he tapped on the horn, I jumped a little, and turned around to see Adam!

He leaned over and rolled down the window and we talked for a while. He actually asked me why I hadn't been down to the

feed store lately while he was there! Honestly! The audacity of the man! I gave him a look and told him if he wanted to

talk to me that my number is in the local phone book.

As soon as I'd said it though, I wondered if I'd made a mistake. I mean, I want Adam to like me. As in, like like. What if I'd made him mad,

and he didn't want to talk to me anymore?

I was surprised then when he looked at me across the truck cab, and his blue eyes, (wow, those eyes!) sparkled at me.

"I'll remember that," he said, in a slow drawl, and then he winked at me, and offered me a ride home.

Kate"

"February 9, 1954

Guess who just called me?! That's right, Adam McFadden!

He asked me to the movies tonight!

Kate"

7


	25. A ring and a call

For the next week or so, life was pretty calm. Almost dull, even. The most exciting thing I did really, well, it was reading my

mom's journal. The more I read, the more I admired her. She'd been full of spunk, knowing exactly what she wanted, and intent on achieving

it. She'd been a good student, and by everything that I read, it seemed that she'd been a caring daughter to both of her parents.

And, of course, she also had been determined to make Adam McFadden hers.

As far as Karissa was concerned, my mom still referred to her as "Maggie" throughout the journal, and seemed to have an on again/off again

type of relationship with her. There were many references to Karissa, where my mom had felt that Karissa was too abrupt with both of her

parents, to the point of being curt. She would tell Karissa just what she thought of her abrasiveness with their father, and their mother, too.

I got the impression, as I read more, that my mom had been the favored child. I wondered if that was because she was the youngest, or because

she didn't have Karissa's rougher personality.

I thought a lot about all of the writing that she'd done in that journal. Writing down her feelings, and her thoughts. It gave me a glimpse into

what sort of a girl she'd been.

I had to admit, though, that the most interesting reading for me were the parts about my dad and her.

I mean, I'm sure if my mom had been around during my growing up years, she would have told me some stories about her and my dad. How they met, the

time they spent dating, and all of that. But, being able to read it myself, written in her own hand that way, it was almost as if I could pretend she was sitting next

to me, right there on my bed, or the step on the porch, or wherever I happened to be sitting to read. And, besides that, I don't know if she would have told me, as her

young daughter, how she really felt when my dad kissed her for the first time. In the journal, it was there. Right in front of me, written in some detail.

Some people might find that weird, or whatever, reading about their parents that way. But I didn't. It made me feel close to them. Both of them. They'd been

young people, full of ideas and dreams, and full of love for each other.

"March 4, 1954

It was real cold tonight, when Adam brought me home from the movies. We sat outside in his truck for the longest time,

talking. And kissing. He was wearing his sheepskin jacket, the one that's all furry inside, and he wrapped me up in that, too.

He was talking again about his ranch. The one he wants to have some day. He's fed up with working for other people. He

says he is going to take his savings, and borrow some money from the bank, and buy his own place. He says he has a place in mind. Somewhere

in Calaveras County. He said he thinks I'd like it. That he wants to show it to me. That it would be a good place to raise cattle. And kids.

Well, when he said that! Oh, my! I reached up to turn on the overhead light in his truck cab. And I looked him right in the eye.

I asked him just what he was doing, talking to me about kids that way.

He smiled his beautiful smile at me and said, "Well, Katie, I want a lot of kids. If you're gonna marry me, you need to know that right out of the gate."

Honestly! I know what people will say. We've only been dating for a few weeks. I mean, I've known him for a while, but really dating, it hasn't been that long. People

will say it's too quick. That I'm too young. But when he reached into his shirt pocket, and pulled out a little box, opening it, and I saw the gold intertwined with a sparkle, I didn't care about what anyone would say.

He took the ring out, and slipped it on my finger. "Okay?" he asked me.

And I whispered back, "Okay."

He pulled me close again, and whispered, "Remember. Lots of babies."

I was in my bed, almost asleep, when I realized something. In true Adam McFadden fashion, he'd never actually asked me to marry him! Just those comments about lots

of kids. And then putting the ring on my hand! No romantic proposal. No begging me on bended knee to be his wife! I tried to muster up some indignant feelings on my part.

But, I felt the still strange feeling of the weight of his ring on my finger, and I just couldn't do it.

Maybe it wasn't the proposal that girls dream about. But it was mine. He was mine. I had the ring to prove it. As I drifted off to sleep, I wondered just how

many babies he did want.

Kate"

7

It was one evening later that week that I'd been sitting at Crane's desk, doing some homework. Everyone else was still either outside, or in the kitchen, so when the phone started ringing I called out, "I've got it!"

When I said hello, there was a little bit of silence on the other end.

"Hello?" I said, again, a little impatiently.

"Hello," came a familiar voice. "How are you, Harlie?"

She sounded subdued, not confident as usual.

It had been two weeks with no attempts on her part to connect with me. I shouldn't have been surprised to hear her voice, but I was. For a moment, anyway.

Surprised enough that I was silent.

"Harlie?" she prompted.

"Yes," I managed, "I'm here."

I took a backwards look around the room and toward the kitchen to see if anyone would overhear my conversation with her. There was no sign of any McFadden.

I knew I should just hang up on her. That's what Adam would want me to do.

But I didn't.

"How are you?" she asked again.

"I'm fine."

"I'm glad. I've missed you."

I wondered if she really had. I didn't know what to think about her. She'd been so wonderful, and indulgent, and all of that, until the day she

threatened to take back all the photo albums.

When I was silent again, she said, "Harlie?"

"Yes."

"Could we meet somewhere? To talk?"

"I can't."

"Bring Guthrie with you. Ford, too, if he wants to come."

I knew Guthrie wouldn't go along with this whole thing. Well, he might if I badgered him and begged. But I knew Ford would have no part in it,

knowing that Adam had forbidden me to talk to Karissa at all.

"Ford wouldn't come," I said bluntly. "And Guthrie probably wouldn't, either."

"Then come alone."

"Why? So you can take back all the photo albums?" I said, with a sudden viciousness that even surprised myself.

"What?" Karissa said, sounding shocked. "Of course not."

"That's what you said," I reminded her hotly. "You've changed your mind?"

"Did I say that? Did I really?" she asked.

"Yes, you said it!" What was she trying to do, pretend she didn't remember?

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm so very, very sorry! I don't remember saying that, but if I did, it was utterly stupid. Of course those albums are yours!"

Why wouldn't she remember? She couldn't be serious.

I thought for a moment, and then said, sarcastically, "Did you have too much wine with lunch that day, too? Maybe that's why you don't remember."

There was a long, long moment of utter silence.

"I don't think that's very fair of you, Harlie," she said finally. "I thought you'd agreed, and accepted the fact that there are two sides to every

story. In this case, my side, and your brother's side."

"I can see two sides to things," I defended myself. "But you did say that about the albums."

"I've apologized, Harlie. I will again. If I said that, then I'm sorry."

Again with the 'If'! It was like beating a dead horse, as the old saying goes. She wasn't going to fully accept responsibility.

"Alright," I said stiffly.

"So can we get together?"

"I can't," I said.

I guess she heard the finality in my voice.

"Let me guess. Adam's decree. Am I correct?"

There was no point in lying. "Yeah."

"And you're alright with that decision? About not seeing me?"

"I have to be," I told her.

"He certainly keeps you under his thumb, doesn't he?"

"Don't talk about Adam," I told her fiercely.

"Alright," she said, sounding weary. "But I thought we had something between us. Something worth continuing."

I hesitated. "Maybe so. But it's all messed up now."

There was what seemed like a long silence. Then, to my surprise, she said, "Is Adam there? I'd like to talk to him."

I was so surprised that I didn't answer for a second.

"Why?" I asked.

"Is he there?" she asked, not answering my question.

"I don't know if he'll talk to you or not," I said, starting to feel panicky. Adam would think I was talking to Karissa behind his back. And who knows what fury he would unlease on Karissa or what verbal assaults she would hurl at him. It was a lose-lose situation.

"Well, can you go and tell him I'm on the telephone? Please?"

"I think he's outside right now," I said, chickening out.

"Alright. I'll call back later then."

"What do you want to say to him?" I insisted.

She gave a tinkly little laugh. "Don't worry, Harlie. I'm not going to eat him alive, if that's what you're worried about. Besides, I

know for a fact that Adam can take care of himself just fine. He doesn't need your protection."

"Maybe he doesn't need it," I said. "But he has it, anyway."

There was another little laugh of acknowledgement. "Fair enough. When is a good time to call?"

"There's no particular good time," I said vaguely.

"Alright." I heard her sigh a little. "Let's talk about something else. Tell me about school. Your night class."

I talked for a few minutes, just general stuff, nothing too personal, until I heard the front door opening. I took a swift look

behind me. Brothers were coming in. Scraping their boots on the rug, and talking amongst themselves.

"I need to go," I said hastily.

"Alright. Goodbye, sweetheart. I'll talk to you soon."

"Goodbye," I said, and hung the phone receiver up quickly.

I turned to face them all as they headed in different directions. Kitchen. Couch. Up the stairs to shower.

"Hey," Crane said, pausing beside me.

"Hey."

"What are you up to?" he asked, with a slight grin.

"Nothing. Homework."

"You look like you were caught in the cookie jar or something."

"You're silly," I told him, for lack of anything better, or more convincing to say, and went back to my science homework.

7

I debated on what to do. Should I warn Adam and Brian that Karissa might call? That would be the right thing to do. I knew that.

But, knowing the likely reaction of one or both of them, I hesitated. I was finally back in the good graces of both of my big brothers. I

wanted to keep it that way. If I told them she had called, and that I'd spoken to her, and that she was likely, possibly, going to call again

to talk to them, they would get all fired up. Irritated. Angry. Short tempered.

Gahhhh!

Still, I didn't think it fair to have them blindsided by the surprise of Karissa's voice on the other end of the telephone.

As everybody was setting in for the evening, settling into the couches and chairs, sock feet resting on the coffee table, and

beers in hand, I went to take my shower, coming back downstairs in my pajamas, with my hair wet and curly.

"Get yourself a snack before bedtime," Hannah told me, as she sat down next to Adam.

"Okay. I will." I hesitated, pausing beside the edge of the couch, Adam on one end, and Brian in the oversized chair next to it.

"Adam?" I said tentatively, picking at the edge of a blanket over the back of the couch.

"Hmm?"

"Karissa called here."

Instantly I had his full attention. Brian's, too. And Hannah. Crane. Even Evan stopped flicking thru the television stations to listen to the

conversation. Guthrie paused on his way back from the kitchen, a plate loaded with grapes and cookies, and a glass of milk in his hands, and I could

tell he was poised and ready for a huge confrontation.

"When?" Adam asked, shortly.

"A little while ago. After supper."

"And you talked to her?" Brian demanded.

Which I thought was a really silly question.

"Yes, Bri," I said with a sigh. "For a few minutes."

"Weren't you told to not talk to her?" Brian continued mercilessly. "Why didn't you hang up?"

I faced him, trying to decide on the best answer.

"I don't know," I said. "I thought about it."

"But you didn't," he said.

"No."

I looked back at Adam.

"What did she want?" Adam asked.

"To talk. To ask how I was. To ask me and Guthrie to meet her. I told her that I couldn't."

"Huh," Adam said, sounding like a six on a level ten scale of irritated.

"I wasn't trying to disobey you, Adam," I said, sort of quietly.

Adam gave me a long look, but he didn't answer that.

"She says she's going to call back. To talk to you."

He was surprised by that. I could tell.

"She is, huh?" he asked, dryly.

"Yeah. That's what she said, anyway."

"What does she want?" Brian demanded.

"I don't know. She wouldn't say," I told him.

My brothers exchanged looks between them. And then, Brian kind of made a humph sound, and started drinking his beer.

Adam picked up the newspaper on the table, shook it out a little and opened it up.

"Go get your snack," he told me, in dismissal.

No thank you for telling him about it. But at least, no admonishment either.

I sighed, and went to get some crackers and apple slices. I sat down beside Evan while I ate, watching an old

rerun of Bonanza with him. It was nearly nine-thirty by then, and the telephone began ringing.

Guthrie, who was watching the Cartwrights with Evan and I, gave me a telling look. A look which quite plainly said, that

Karissa had wasted no time.

I shrugged. Maybe it wasn't her. I could hope. It could be one of the other members of the Cattlemen's Association, calling to

talk to Adam or Brian. It could be one of Hannah's friends. It could be Nancy calling for Evan.

I started to get up to go answer the phone, but Adam stood up, and waved me back. "Finish your snack," he said brusquely.

I was done, but I didn't point that out.

I waited, holding my breath while Adam went to the phone and picked up the receiver.

"Hello?" he said.

I was watching his face, trying to read his expression. And I could. I could tell by the way that his jaw tightened that

it was Karissa on the other end of the line.

7


	26. Time to meet

I kept my eyes on Adam's face. At first, his end of the conversation didn't reveal much.

After his hello, and the disclosure on the other end of who it was, Adam waited a moment, and then said,

"That's what I heard."

Silence as he listened. The entire room was silent. Listening. Only the voices of Hoss and Little Joe Cartwright on the television could be heard.

"That would probably be a good idea." Adam's voice was resigned sounding. Curt. Not very friendly.

What? What would be a good idea? I leaned my hip against the side of the couch, picking at my cuticles, listening. My heart was

hammering.

When Adam said, "That's not the way I remember it, no," in a tight voice, I felt my stomach jump in nerves.

I gave Guthrie a look of distress, and he shrugged in answer.

I heard Hannah say my name and when I turned to look over at her, she patted the spot beside her, indicating that I

should sit beside her.

I didn't want to, but I probably would have, if Adam hadn't at that time, said, "Alright," in a curt tone, and hung up the phone without a goodbye.

Nobody said anything for a long few moments. I wanted to ask questions. I did. But I knew it would be so much better if someone

other than me asked the questions.

Adam went back over to the couch and sat down beside Hannah. Nobody said anything. Hannah reached for Adam's hand.

"Was she nice?" I burst out, unable to keep silent any longer.

Adam's gaze flickered over me. "School tomorrow," he said, as if he were announcing something that Guthrie and I neither one was aware of.

Somebody, it was Crane I saw when I turned, gave me a gentle push toward the stairs. "Bed," he told me.

I couldn't believe they were ordering me to bed as if I was six years old!

"I want to know what she said, though," I protested.

"Have you done your shot?" Adam asked me, as if he hadn't heard me protest.

"Yes. I did. But-"

"Go on to bed then," Adam said.

"But, Adam-"

"You too, Guth," Brian said, giving Guthrie's shoulder a light punch.

Guthrie didn't look any too pleased either, at being sent upstairs. But there's the difference between Guthrie and me. He

gathered what was left of his cookies in his hands, and headed towards the stairs, without complaint. He went up a few stairs, and then turned

back, obviously waiting for me.

I surveyed my three oldest brothers, and Hannah, feeling mutinous. Evan, from where he sat in front of the television,

turned and gave me a quick warning shake of his head over the back of the couch. A prompt from him, I knew, that I should shut up. As in immediately.

"Why can't I know what she said?" I persisted.

"You can. After we've all discussed it first," Adam said, and then added, "Scoot off to bed."

Well, he might have said 'scoot' like he was teasing, but his tone was one that left no room for argument.

I started for the stairs, muttering as I went. "It's like I'm six years old, and being sent to bed!"

Crane halted me as I passed in front of him, catching me in a humiliating way by the back of my pajamas. "Careful," he said, leaning

close to my ear, and talking in a quiet way, "or you can be treated like you're six years old, too."

I met his eye, and then let my gaze flitter away from his.

"Alright," I said grudgingly, barely civil.

"What?" he said, still holding onto me. "How about, 'Goodnight, Crane'?"

"Goodnight, Crane," I said with a sigh, and he let go of me.

"Goodnight, peanut," he said mildly.

Goodnights were called out by everybody else to Guthrie and I, and we went up the stairs together.

As we reached the top of the staircase, Brian hollered from below, "And that means go to bed, peach! No hangin' around at the top of the stairs trying to listen!"

I shot Guthrie a look of frustration. "I have a right to know what she said!" I told him.

"Don't get so uptight about it," Guthrie said.

Easy for Guthrie to say, I thought. He didn't have the same interest or investment in a relationship with Karissa that I did. Then I felt a little disloyal for thinking that. Guthrie was just concerned. He didn't like seeing me upset.

"Okay," I said, sighing.

"Okay. G'night," he said.

"Night."

As he walked on past my door and down the hall, I heard him say, "Hyena."

Well, there was only one answer to that. "Elephant ears," I called after him.

Just before I went into my bedroom, I cast a look back towards the stairs. I would have gone back to the edge and tried to overhear the conversation taking

place down below. I would have. If I didn't think Brian would, by instinct, know, and thus kill me.

7

I had trouble going to sleep. Finally I gave up trying, and got up again, flipping on my lamp, and settling with my mother's journal.

"April 4, 1954

Sometimes it's all I can do to not tell Margie to go straight to hell! She keeps harping at me about being too young to get married. I told her

that it was none of her business. I mean, Mom and Pop are fine with it. They love Adam! I would think that Margie was jealous or something,

but she goes out with guys. I mean, I'm sure she does, even though she never brings any of them to the house. So, if she's not jealous, why

is she constantly talking about how I need to wait?

Mom says she's just concerned about me, but I'm not so sure about that. When we used to get along it was because I let her boss me, and treat me like

she was my mother instead of my sister or something like that. When I make my own decisions, that's when she gets angry. Her and Adam are like

oil and water! They do not mix. She will sit and stare at him when he comes over, and it's not a friendly stare, either. It's like a glare. Adam handles it

well, though. Well, he does until she starts making snide comments or insults towards him. They're never direct to him, just more in a general way. For instance,

last night she said that any man who proposes to a girl before he has at least several thousand dollars in the bank, isn't really thinking of the girl's best interests. He's only

thinking of his own "carnal desires". Can you believe she said that?! I was so embarrassed that I couldn't hardly look at Adam.

Adam looked right at her and said that people that can only love themselves, and not anyone else, are better off not ever getting married, because they'll likely

end up divorced. We all knew he was talking about her. Then quick as a wink, he turned and started talking to Pop about the price of cattle.

Margie was so mad she went out slamming the door, so hard the windows rattled. Mom and Pop were both embarrassed, too, by the way she was acting. I could tell. The four of us played a board

game, and had popcorn later. It was a nice evening, but later, as Adam and I said goodnight on the porch, he told me that Margie slamming the door like that was uncalled

for, and that she needed a man in her life that would take a firm hand with her.

Kate"

Well! That answered the question that I'd had about whether my grandparents had liked my dad. They had. And they'd been okay with them getting married, even

though my mom was young.

I was starting reading on another page in the journal, when there was a light tap on my bedroom door.

"Harlie?" It was Adam's voice.

"Yeah," I answered, and he opened the door.

"You should be asleep," he told me, standing there in the doorway.

"I know." I sighed a little, and closed the journal, laying it on the bed beside me. "I couldn't, though."

"You'll be draggin' in the morning," he said.

I shrugged, giving him a look that I hoped he would understand.

Adam sighed. "Let me guess. You aren't gonna be able to sleep until you hear what was said. Am I right?"

I gave him a half-smile. "It would help me to sleep," I told him.

"Uh huh," Adam said drily, and came over to my bed. I scooted over to make more room so he could sit down. He sank down on the edge of the bed.

"I think that we're gonna meet up with Margaret. Karissa," he amended. "Someplace neutral," he added.

I sat up straighter in the bed, feeling excited. "Really?! That's great, Adam! Is Hannah going with us? I think Karissa will try to be nice-"

Adam held up a hand to halt my verbal onslaught. "Whoa up there a second, sugar."

"What?" I asked, subsiding, and looking at him questioningly.

"We is we. As in, Brian and Crane and I. Not you."

I looked at him, frowning. "How come?" I asked.

"Because this is an adult issue. I don't want you involved."

"I'm already involved," I reminded him.

"Well. Maybe that's right," Adam agreed. "But for this conversation, you're not gonna be."

"I'd be quiet," I told him. "I'd sit there, and be totally quiet. I wouldn't say a single word-"

"Harlie," he said, giving me a look. "Enough."

"Alright," I said, a little grudgingly.

Adam waited a couple of moments, holding my eyes with his own. "Should I continue now? If you're done arguing and fussing at me?"

My cheeks burned hot. "Sorry," I said.

"Alright." He sighed, and looked as though he was collecting his thoughts. "It was her suggestion we meet to talk. I'm not sure how it's gonna go, but we'll try. It may go

bad real quickly. She says she wasn't drinking that day with Ford, when she took out the fence. If she continues with that nonsense, and won't take any responsibility for what

she did, then I doubt it will go well."

I wrinkled my forehead in thought, and Adam saw it, saying, "What?"

"Well, she told me that she had been drinking. A glass of wine, but that it interacted with some medication. Remember? I told you that-"

"Ah. Yeah, I guess you did. Well. Anyway, now she's changing her tune, I guess," Adam said.

I sighed, feeling disappointed in Karissa. The guys would never accept her coming around unless she met them half-way in expressing apologies and all of that.

Adam patted my knee. "It'll be alright."

"Where are you gonna meet at?" I asked. "Marie's?"

"No. In Angels Camp. At the diner. Crane thinks it might be a little more comfortable for her than someplace here in Murphys."

"Good old Crane," I said, and Adam smiled a little.

"Yeah. Good old Crane," he agreed.

"I'm glad he's going along," I said.

"Afraid Brian and I will lose our tempers, huh?" he asked me, raising an eyebrow.

"Maybe," I said honestly.

Adam reached out and tweaked my nose. "Thanks a lot," he said dryly.

"I don't mean it in a bad way," I told him.

"I know. I'm just teasin' you," he said.

"When are you going to meet up?" I asked.

"Tomorrow night."

I nodded my head. "K."

"Try not to worry about it," Adam advised.

"I'll try. And I'll pray it goes good."

"Prayer is always good," Adam said. He leaned forward and kissed my forehead. Sitting back up straight he rubbed a hand over my hair.

"Go. To. Sleep," he said, his voice stern.

"Okay," I told him.

Adam stood up, and went to switch off my lamp light. He paused at the doorway, when I said, "Adam?"

"What?" he asked.

"Why did you guys agree to talk to her? After all this time?" I was curious.

For a minute he didn't say anything. I could see his profile in the half-lit hallway, but I couldn't see his expression.

"Well," he said. "We're doing it for you, sugar. If it was up to Brian and me, I doubt we would bother about it."

I swallowed, humbled a little bit. I knew it would take a lot for them to sit down with Karissa, when there was such dislike on both sides. They were proud guys. And they

were willing to try to bend. At least a little.

"Thank you," I said quietly.

"You're welcome. There's not much that we wouldn't do for you, if we're able to."

Well, that choked me up. It did.

"Goodnight," he said.

"Night," I managed.

7bfor7B


	27. Marking time

At school the next day I was distracted, thinking about the meeting coming up that night with Karissa and my brothers.

I hadn't studied very well for a history test, and when the teacher collected them, I knew that I hadn't passed it. A fact which was confirmed,

at the end of the hour, when Mr. Stanley handed the tests back. There was an overly large F on the top of the page. He looked at me questioningly,

but said nothing, continuing on down the aisle, distributing papers. The thought of that F bothered and worried me.

I was trying to think how much a failing grade on a test would bring my letter grade down in the class.

After school, Guthrie stopped at the hardware store, telling me that he needed to buy a new pocketknife.

"Wanna go in with?" he asked me, as he put the truck in park.

"No. I'll wait out here," I told him, reaching for a couple of pieces of his gum out of the glove compartment.

When Guthrie had disappeared thru the heavy wooden door of the hardware store, I propped my feet up on the dashboard,

and popped the pieces of gum in my mouth, wadding up the wrappers and tossing them onto the floorboard. A fact which was

sure to rile Guthrie, since he's pretty picky about keeping his truck clean.

I was still thinking about Karissa, and worrying about what would happen, when I saw Ivy Ramsey coming out of the grocery store,

carrying a bag of groceries and munching on an apple.

On an impulse, I got out of the truck, and walked toward her. She was munching on an apple, and it took her a couple of

moments to see me, and then she smiled at me in recognition.

"Hello, Harlie," she greeted me.

"Hello," I said.

She paused beside me, and made a comment about how warm it was for early March.

"Is this common for this part of the state?" she asked me.

I told her that it was, and then asked her where she was from.

"I grew up in Minnesota," she said, and I looked at her in surprise.

"Wow," I said.

"Yeah. I'm used to a lot of snow. And I mean A LOT," she smiled.

"Do you miss Minnesota?" I asked her.

"I miss some things about it, but I'm enjoying the weather here in California."

I nodded in understanding.

"Did you still want some help with the boxes of Doc G's stuff?" I asked her, surprising myself. The offer seemed to come out of the air. I hadn't made any plans

to do it.

I'd surprised Ivy, too. I could tell.

"That would be wonderful, Harlie," she said. "There's so many files and things."

"I think I can help you," I said, and tried to ignore the drop of my stomach.

"Anytime you feel you can."

I nodded into her kind face. "Maybe tomorrow morning?" I asked her, since the next day was Saturday.

"Sure. Give me a call first, and I'll let you know if I'll be around the office, or if I have a call to go out on."

"Okay," I agreed.

She smiled at me again. "Alright. I'll see you."

I walked back towards Guthrie's truck as he was coming out of the hardware store.

Ivy said hello to Guthrie as she passed by, and Guthrie watched her go, and then turned to me.

"Who's that?" he asked, his eyes wide.

"Ivy Ramsey. The new vet."

"Wow," Guthrie said, and I had to giggle a little, knowing exactly what he was getting at.

"Pretty, huh?" I teased him.

"Holy smokes, you can say that again," Guthrie said, still staring after Ivy.

As we got into the truck, and Guthrie started the motor, he said, "I hate to say it, but I just can't see her covered in blood, with her arm up a cow,

trying to turn a calf."

"Why? Because she's pretty?" I scoffed.

"Well, yeah," Guthrie admitted.

"That's a sexist remark," I informed him. "Just because she's good-looking, that has nothing to do with her ability or skills as a vet."

"I know, I know," Guthrie said, and I could tell he was trying to pacify me. "I didn't mean it like it sounded-it's just a surprise, that's all."

"Don't be a chauvanist pig, Guthrie," I said.

"I'm not," Guthrie denied.

"Hmm," I said, giving him a scolding look of sisterly disapproval.

"I'm not. You know I'm not," Guthrie insisted.

"Oh, I know you aren't really," I said, letting him off the hook.

"Good. Glad that's settled," he told me, and then leaned over to look at where my feet rested on top of the gum wrappers.

"Pick up your trash," he told me.

7

When we got home, Hannah greeted Guthrie and I, as was her usual habit when we got home from school.

She told Guthrie what was available to grab for an after-school snack, and asked us both how our day had gone.

Guthrie shrugged, and went in search of the cookies. "Same old, same old," he said.

"How about you?" she asked me.

I shrugged in answer, too. "Okay. I had trouble concentrating."

"Ah," she said, knowing exactly what I meant. "You're just going to have to trust that Adam and Brian will handle everything

the right way tonight."

I took a pear from the fruit bowl on the table.

"I guess," I said, feeling sort of weird, but not knowing exactly why.

I went upstairs to change out of my school clothes, pulling on ragged jeans and a sweatshirt, and changing to my oldest pair of boots.

I came back downstairs, and went out onto the front porch, sitting down in the porch swing.

When Crane came up the front steps a few minutes later, I was still sitting there, munching on my pear.

"What's up, buttercup?" he greeted me.

"Nothing much."

"How was school?"

I shrugged. "I don't know," I said vaguely. "Not so good, I guess."

He paused beside the porch swing, pulling off his leather gloves, and sticking them in his back pocket.

"Why?" he asked.

I shrugged again. I didn't really want to tell him that I had failed a test. He would find that out soon enough.

"Just kind of blah," I said instead, in answer.

He looked concerned at me. "You feeling alright?"

I wasn't really, truthfully, feeling that great at all. But I've learned over the course of months of having diabetes that there are days that are better than

others. So I just shrugged again. "I'm okay," I said.

He didn't look all that convinced, but he didn't say anymore about it. So I squinted my eyes against the sun, and looked up at him.

"Are you going tonight? With Adam and Brian?" I asked.

Crane didn't ask where. He knew what I meant.

"If they want me to go, I will," he said, non-committal.

"I want you to go," I told him, emphasizing the word I.

"They'll be fine, peanut."

"I don't know," I said. "You're a good influence on people. I think you should go."

"Well, I'll see," he said, still not promising.

"You have homework?" he asked me, then.

"A bunch," I said, without interest.

Crane nodded, and went on into the house. I finished my pear, and took the core over to throw to the chickens. I went to do my chores then,

still feeling vaguely "off". Instead of feeling better, I began to feel worse. I was getting a headache, and my stomach hurt.

When I went inside, I found Hannah, sitting on the couch holding a laughing Isaac. The smell of roast floated thru the air

from the kitchen.

"Can I take a bath in your room?" I asked her.

"Yes. Sure," she said, and then gave me a closer look. "Are you alright?"

"A headache," I said, in explanation.

"Well, go on. Take your time," she told me.

I went up the stairs, and grabbed a clean pair of shorts and t shirt from my chest of drawers, and then went into Hannah's bedroom,

shutting the door, and starting the water running into the bathtub. I poured in some bubble bath stuff, and then sank down into the hot water.

It was so hot that I knew no one else had been running any hot water all afternoon. Our water heater is really old, and the water is only this hot

when you're the first one to use it.

After awhile I could hear sounds of the family up and down the hallway, and voices. I closed my eyes, trying to wish my "shobbly" feeling away.

That's a word Hannah says for a cross between feeling wobbly and shaky.

I heard the bedroom door opening, and then Hannah called in, "Can I come in?"

I told her yes, and she appeared at the bathroom door. "Is the hot water helping your headache?" she asked.

It wasn't, particularly, but I didn't want to start any fussing, so I just nodded a little and said, "I think so."

"Well, it's time for supper in about ten minutes, so finish up," she told me.

"Can I soak awhile? And eat later?" I asked, hopefully.

"I think you should come and eat now. At least a little bit of something. You can soak in the tub again later

if you want. Besides, there's a surprise for you downstairs."

"What surprise?" I asked.

"Come down and see," Hannah said.

Hannah had her 'insistent' voice on. I sighed and said okay, and when she'd gone, I got out reluctantly and dried off, pulling on my clean shorts and Merle

Haggard t shirt.

The phone was ringing as I walked downstairs in my bare feet, and the living room was full of loudness and laughing.

In the center of it all, was Ford. I felt a swelling of joy inside.

I would have elbowed my way thru the mass of McFaddens to get to Ford, but I didn't have to. He saw me at the bottom of the stairs and

came to me, his face lit up with a grin.

"Hey, trouble," he greeted me.

I squeezed his neck tight in a hug. "Look who's talking," I countered.

"Did you bring Captain Jack?" I asked, after he'd turned me loose from the hug.

"Naw, not this time. One of my buddies at the dorm is gonna keep an eye on him for me."

'"Oh." I couldn't help being a little bit disappointed.

"He's doing fine, though," Ford said, reading my expression. "Really. He is, Har."

"Okay."

Supper ensued, and I managed to eat enough to keep Hannah from commenting. When he was finishing, Adam looked down the table

at all of us younger kids.

"What's the plans for tonight?" he asked, in a general way of all of us.

Ford shrugged, squirting whipped cream on the top of his piece of apple pie. "Nothing much for me. Tomorrow I might go shoot some pool."

Guthrie said he was going to play some basketball with Kenny and Trent and some of the other guys from school.

Adam's gaze rested on me. "How about you, sugar?" he asked.

"Not much," I said. "I'll hang out with Ford."

Evan scraped the last of his pie off the plate. "Some guy called earlier for you," he said.

"For me?" I asked, not sure who he was talking to.

"Yes. You."

"Who?" I asked.

"I don't know." Evan hesitated, in thought. "I think he said his name was Nathan-or somethin' like that. Yeah, Nathan somethin'."

"When did he call?"

"An hour or so ago," Evan said carelessly.

"Thanks for telling me," I said, with intentional sarcasm.

"You're welcome," Evan said, giving me a grin.

"Nathan who?" Brian said, as he stood up and pushed in his chair.

I thought for a minute. I couldn't place a Nathan in my mind.

"I don't know," I said.

"A kid from school?" Brian continued doggedly.

"I don't know a Nathan," I said, purposely sounding disinterested, so Brian would stop with his questions.

Adam, on his way to the coffeepot for a refill, let his hand run over my hair as he passed.

"Ready?" he said to Hannah.

"Yes," she said, and got up, too.

As Brian stood up, and then Crane followed, I knew they were all getting ready to go to their 'meeting' with Karissa. For a fleeting moment, I

felt sorry for her. Four against one. Those weren't very good odds for Karissa. Well, maybe not four AGAINST one, exactly.

"Will you all keep an eye and ear out for Isaac?" Hannah asked, in a general way.

"I will," Clare said, sounding happy about it.

I didn't know why, exactly, but I felt not only worried about them all meeting up with Karissa. I also felt a little emotional about it.

I started to clear the table, and when Adam said, "We'll see you later, alright?" to me, I only nodded, avoiding his eye.

He stopped beside me, and turned my chin so that I was looking at him.

"No worrying," he reminded me.

I nodded. "It's just-"

"Just what?" he asked softly.

"I didn't tell you this, but she said Mama didn't want to keep having babies. That she had no choice but to act as if she did." I wasn't sure just where

that came from, but it just sort of burst out of me.

Adam's jaw tightened, and I knew I was probably sending him out angrier at Karissa than he would have been.

His voice, though, when he spoke, was really firm, but calm enough. "Mom wanted every one of us, Harlie. And don't you ever

believe otherwise. You hear me?"

He sounded so certain, so knowing, so believeable, that I did believe him. And I nodded.

"Yes, Adam," I said.

He searched my face with his eyes for a long moment, and then gave me a half-smile and a nod.

"Alright."

7


	28. Hanging out with Ford

It was later that evening, when Ford and Clare and I were all hanging out in the living room. Guthrie had gone to Trent's house to

play basketball, and so the three of us were playing with Isaac. Clare had spread a blanket out on the floor with some baby toys, and

Isaac was laying on his stomach, while we all sat around him, watching.

"He changes so much every time I come home," Ford said, as he laid on his stomach, too, in order to be face-level with Isaac.

"I know. It's amazing how he's growing," Clare said. In her voice I heard wonderment, and I looked at her face. There was pure longing

there, and I wondered if she was wanting to have a baby of her own.

Ford must have been paying attention too, because he looked upwards at me, and winked. I hid my smile, and went to the kitchen

to bring back some snacks. I was craving something sweet. I ate two chocolate chip cookies while I was gathering things together, and

then when I'd handed Ford a plate of several cookies, I took another off the top, and ate that, too.

Clare gathered Isaac up, laying him against her shoulder.

"No, thanks," she said, when I offered her a cookie. "I think I'll take him up and give him a bath."

"Okay," I said, and as Clare went up the stairs with the baby, I plopped down beside Ford with exaggerated enthusiasm, jarring

his arm so hard that the cookie he was holding broke in half.

"Just you and me," I told him, taking another cookie from the plate.

"Hey," he protested, "I thought you brought these for me to eat."

"This is the last one I'll take, I promise."

I told Ford about our mother's journal, and he was so interested that I went upstairs to get it.

I pressed myself up against Ford's side while he read the journal slowly, from the very beginning. Even though I knew that part by

memory, I sat quietly, being still as Ford read silently. As he turned the pages, sometimes I followed along, rereading the by-now familiar

words.

As he reached the point that I'd read up to, I put a hand out to pull it from his hands a little.

"Stop there," I told him.

"How come?" Ford asked, looking at me, surprised.

"Because that's where I stopped at."

"So? Why can't we keep on readin' together?" Ford pointed out. I thought about that for a moment. The journal was such a personal thing for me.

I hadn't shared it with anybody else, only telling Guthrie about certain things in it. It had seemed as if it was "my own" private venture into

my mom's young life. Still, sharing it with Ford had seemed right.

So, we did continue on reading for awhile. Together.

The part we read then dealt with our mother finishing up her senior year in high school. And planning her wedding. It seemed that

'Margie', a.k.a Karissa, felt the need to take over all the planning for the entire wedding. I shook my head a little. I wasn't surprised at all by that.

Mom wrote on the next few paragraphs of our dad's temper boiling over.

" May 30, 1954

Adam says he has reached his limit, and that if he has to continue to be around Karissa, he won't be responsible for what he does to her. I know he's only

teasing. He would never disrespect her in any way. Even though she disrespects him lots of times. I always know when it's bothering him, the way she talks and acts, because his jaw

will set like it does when he's trying to control his temper. Sometimes he will excuse himself and go out onto the front porch, to get a breath of air, is what he says, but I know

it's really to smoke, and rein his temper in.

Tonight, after supper, and after a longer time of all of us listening to her tell us what colors to use and that we weren't planning on enough flowers, I spoke up.

I reminded her that Adam and I just wanted a simple wedding. Sort of quiet and understated, not elaborate. She gave me the 'evil eye'. The look she's given me all my

life to make me do what she wants me to do. The look that suggests that she's so much smarter than I am.

'Kate," she says, "you should be able to have the wedding you've always wanted. Adam should be able to understand that.' Then she looked across the table at Adam

and said, 'After all, this shouldn't be some throw-together hillbilly wedding. You agree, don't you, Adam?'

Well, I recognized the set of Adam's jaw then. He looked at mama, and excused himself, and then went out onto the porch. Well, mama looked all upset and even Pop

tried talking to Karissa, telling her that she needed to let Adam and I handle our own wedding the way that we wanted. I got up to follow Adam out to the porch, and for

a couple of moments I didn't know just what to say. He solved the problem by crushing out his cigarette under his boot, and turning to take me into his arms, resting

his chin on the top of my head.

I told him I was sorry for the way that Karissa was acting. He told me that it wasn't my place to be sorry. It was hers.

I know she's my sister, and that I'm supposed to love her. But most of the time, I sure don't like her very much at all.

Kate'

Ford turned to look at me.

"Wow," he said.

"Yeah. Wow," I echoed.

Ford closed the journal, touching the cover almost reverently. "This is somethin' real special, alright," he said.

"I know."

"I wanna read some more with you if it's okay," Ford said. "Maybe tomorrow?"

"Yeah. It's okay," I told him.

"Aren't you ever tempted to skip ahead?" Ford asked me, with a grin.

"Never," I denied.

Ford's grin got wider. "Yeah, right."

"Well, okay," I admitted. "Maybe I'm tempted to, but I haven't."

As he reached for another cookie, I leaned back against the back of the couch.

"The way that Mom describes him, daddy sounds as though he was alot like Adam is now. Don't you think?"

"Yeah," Ford agreed, and then added, "Maybe with a little of Brian mixed in, too."

After that, we both sort of just lounged around for awhile. Ford made popcorn, and came back to the living room, carrying the bowl.

"Want some?" he offered.

"No, thanks." I was regretting my mass eating of all those cookies. I felt sluggish and had a headache again.

"I get so damn tired of having diabetes," I muttered.

Ford sat down on the couch, giving me a look of sympathy. "I'm sorry, Har."

And I knew he really was, too. I shrugged, not wanting to continue to talk about it.

We started talking about college then, and some of his classes. When I asked him if he was planning to go back to John F. Kennedy University next

year, he hesitated, looking a little uncomfortable.

"What?" I asked, instantly on the alert.

"It's nothing definite-" he began.

"Okay. What's not definite?" I demanded.

"I'm thinking about going to Cal Tech."

My eyes widened, and I felt a sense of impending panic. "That's like seven hours away, though, right?"

"Not seven. Five and a half, maybe."

I surveyed him seriously and he returned my look. I could tell he thought I was going to go all crazy on him. And that's what I felt like doing, too.

"What's making you think about going there?" I asked, trying to appear mature. I mean, he'd told me about it, so I owed it to him to not have

a conniption fit.

Ford launched into all the reasons he was considering the change to Cal Tech.

When he was done, I hesitated, and then said, "Crane will be super excited."

I didn't know what else to say.

"Well, like I said, it's not definite. I'm still thinkin' about it," Ford said, taking another handful of popcorn.

"Uh huh," I said.

It struck me then, that things were so much simpler when all of us were younger.

7


	29. Surprising reveal

After Ford told me about Cal Tech, I was sort of quiet. He turned on the television to an old western with the Cisco Kid, and we

sat together, just watching that. Though my mind wasn't really on the show.

It was only a little while after that we heard the dogs barking, and saw headlights turning into the driveway.

"They're home," I said, instantly tensing up, wondering if the talk with Karissa had been a disaster.

I went to open the front door, to see that it was only Brian returning in Clare's little sports car.

I switched on the porch light, waiting till he came up the front steps, and then stepping aside so he could walk past me

into the living room.

"Hey," he greeted me.

"Hi."

I shut the door behind him, as he started shrugging out of his jacket.

"Where's everybody else?" I asked.

"Adam and Hannah were gonna drop Crane off somewhere and then they were goin' out for awhile."

I wondered what Adam and Hannah were going to do. They don't often go out in the evenings, especially since Isaac's

been born.

"Oh," I said. I hadn't thought about the fact that they might not all come home together.

"Where's Clare?" Brian asked me then, hanging up his jacket.

"Upstairs. She was giving Isaac a bath earlier."

"Okay." He made a move as if to start for the stairs. I was still standing there, just looking at him. Wondering if he was actually

going to say nothing at all about what had happened.

I guess he took pity on me or something, because he sighed, and said, "It wasn't horrible. And it wasn't great, either."

"Oh," I said, wondering just exactly what that meant.

"Yeah." He gave me a long look, and then sighed again. "We'll talk to you about it in the morning, alright? All of us together."

That wasn't what I wanted. But there was a tenseness around Brian's eyes, and I knew he was in no mood to be nagged at.

"Okay," I said, reluctantly.

"Okay," he echoed. "Don't stay up too late," he added.

I nodded, and he reached out to run a hand down my cheek.

"Night, peach," he said.

I told him good night, and watched as he went on up the stairs, saying goodnight to Ford, too.

I went back over to plop down next to Ford on the couch, feeling all wound up, and frustrated.

"Try not to let it get to you," Ford told me quietly.

I shrugged, not answering.

"You'll find out in the morning how it went," he reminded me.

"Unless they find another excuse to not talk then," I muttered.

Ford didn't say anything, but when I looked at him, he was frowning, looking disapprovingly at me.

I looked pointedly away from him, staring at the Cisco Kid on the television.

7

In the morning, I woke up before my alarm went off, going down the hall to the bathroom, and then back to my room to get dressed. I could hear

murmurings as the house began to wake up and people were moving around.

I pulled on my jeans and boots, and an old Willie Nelson t-shirt. I went downstairs without running into anybody else, until I opened the front door to see

if Clarence was in his customary spot. Which he was, blue blanket nearly covering his head.

"Good morning, buddy," I greeted him, crouching down to pet him. Clarence obligingly rolled over, so as to make it more convenient for me to scratch

his belly.

I was rubbing his stomach, when I heard voices coming from the direction of the barn. Adam and Brian appeared from the corner, where Brian latched the gate

behind them. They stood talking for another couple of minutes. I couldn't hear what they were saying.

As they turned to come towards the house, I gave Clarence a final scratch and stood up.

"Good morning," Adam greeted me.

"Morning," I returned.

"You're up and around early this morning," he said.

I nodded in answer, and we all just stood there for a couple of seconds.

"Well," Adam said, looking at me first, and then at Brian. "You're waitin' to hear what happened, I guess, huh?"

I nodded again.

"Brian and I both behaved ourselves," Adam said then, giving me a half-way smile.

I recognized his attempt at levity, and I appreciated it. I did. Really. But I wanted to know what was said. What happened. Period.

"That's good," I said.

"Yeah, peach, you would have been proud," Brian threw in. "Crane didn't have to strong-arm either one of us."

Now they had me really curious. For both of them to keep making jokes about it could either mean that it had gone well, or that they were making jokes because

they didn't really want to tell me what had happened.

"I am proud of you," I said, serious as can be.

Well, that got their attention. The grins faded, and they looked at each other again.

"Sit down," Adam said, gesturing to the porch swing, so I obeyed, sitting down, while he sat beside me, and Brian leaned against the railing.

"Margaret," Adam began, and then hesitated. "Karissa, I mean, she does want to continue to visit with you. Take you shopping, things like that. She seems to feel

that the two of you have a strong relationship already."

At that, Adam stopped talking and they both looked at me, kind of questioningly.

"Is that right, peach?" Brian asked me.

"Is what right?" I asked, confused.

"Do you feel like you have a strong relationship with her, like she says?"

I thought for a moment. "I wouldn't say it's strong. Maybe if I saw her more, it might be. I don't know."

"She's pretty insistent on seeing you," Adam said.

"She is?" I asked, though I'd known that already.

He nodded.

"What we told her was, she can come here to the house, to see you and Guthrie. We don't want you going alone with her anywhere. Not right now, anyway."

I was shocked nearly into silence. The whole conversation was going so differently than what I'd imagined. And Adam had actually told Karissa she could come to the

house!

"But did she apologize for anything she did, when we were little?" I asked.

"There were no apologies," Brian said. "Not on either side."

"Oh," I said. I didn't really know what to think.

"Why, though?" I asked. "Why didn't you ask her about calling social services? Why didn't you make her own up to it?"

"She's not gonna do that," Brian said.

"Nope," Adam said, in agreement. "The conversation wouldn't have stood a chance if we'd went in, loaded for battle about any of that stuff."

I was still stunned by the mild way they had undertaken the "talk" with Karissa. I was glad, of course, but puzzled.

"I don't think Guthrie wants anything to do with her," I said, into the silence.

"No. Well, that's his choice to make," Adam said.

"I'm goin' in and get started on a pot of coffee," Brian said then, and went inside, letting the screen door slam.

Which left Adam and I standing there, in the crisp morning air.

"How come you changed your mind?" I asked him, curiously.

"About her coming here?" he questioned, and I nodded.

"Well, that, and also about letting me see her, and talk to her."

"Well, it's like this," he said. "You're not a little kid anymore. You're getting old enough to make some of your own choices about who you want to

have a relationship with. If talking to Karissa about Mom when she was growing up and hearing stories, if that's important to you, then we want you to

have that. We can't tell you the stories the same way, because we weren't there. So that's somethin' she can do for you that we can't."

I was overcome by the simple sincerity of his words. I nodded, because I honestly didn't trust my voice right at that moment.

"The only thing is," he went on, apparently not noticing the fact that I was all choked up, "I'm not willing to give in on you goin' to stay with her, or any of that, like she wants. Right now,

like I said, it's only here at the house. I don't want you drivin' anywhere with her, alone. I think she's still drinkin' quite a bit."

When I didn't say anything, he looked at me closer.

"We're clear on that, right?"

I nodded wordlessly.

"Okay. Because that's the way we put it to her last night, too. So she understands."

I nodded again, and he frowned a little. "What's wrong?" he asked.

In answer, I wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing my face into the front of his shirt, and hugging him.

"What?" he asked again, sounding puzzled, and patting my back.

"I just appreciate it," I managed. "I know it wasn't easy for you and Brian."

"Oh, that," he said, sounding breezy, and joking, as if making light of it all.

I looked up at him. "I mean it," I said, trying to sound stern.

Adam turned serious again. "I know you do," he acknowledged. He kissed my forehead. "Let's not hatch our bridges before our chickens are crossed," he said,

doing a wordplay on the old sayings. "Let's just take it slow. See how it goes, and all of that."

"Okay," I agreed.

I stepped back a little. "I told Ivy Ramsey I might be able to help her with some stuff today," I told him.

"Yeah?" he asked, and I thought he looked pleased.

"Is it alright?" I asked.

"It's fine with me. If you get your chores done."

"Okay."

"Okay," he echoed, and gave me a final pat on my back. "Now turn me loose so I can go get some breakfast," he added, joking again.

7

"


	30. Endless Errands

After breakfast, I made a quick call to the vet office. Ivy didn't answer, so I left a message, saying that I would come into town later that morning

and see if she was around, and ready for my help.

After that, I did my outside chores, and then went to hunt up Adam or Brian.

I found them both, together with Crane and Evan, giving injections to baby calves in the corral. They were doing the old 'you hold and I'll

jab' routine, and were arguing about whether Brian had missed a particular calf.

"That one!" Evan was insisting.

"I did that one!" Brian argued.

"No," Crane said. "I don't think you did."

"I'm telling you, I did," Brian insisted.

"Just do it again to be sure," Adam told him.

"Damn foolish, if you ask me," Brian was grumbling. "I know which ones I stuck already-"

"I'll get a notepad," I said, and no one answered, as I ran off to the house.

I returned with a pen and pad, and scrambled up onto the top board of the fence to sit.'

"Hollar out the ear tag numbers and I'll write them down," I told them all.

After that whenever a calf managed to mix itself back into the herd, one of them would call out the ear tag, and I'd say yes or no,

that they'd had their injection, or that they hadn't.

An hour or more passed before that was all finished, and Adam came over to take the pad from me, and look it over.

"Got 'em all?" he asked.

"I'm pretty sure."

"Good deal." He gave my leg a pat, and handed me back the notepad. "Put that on the desk somewhere. And thanks for your

help."

"Yeah, peach, thanks," Brian added. "Otherwise I don't think Evan would have survived until lunchtime, telling me I'd missed one when

I hadn't."

"Hardee har har, funny man," Evan returned, and they both did a playful punch at one another.

"Still goin' to town to see Ivy?" Adam asked me.

"Yeah. Do you want me to get the feed while I'm there?"

Adam looked at Brian, who looked at Crane.

They both nodded and Adam turned back to look at me, where I was still perched on the top of the fence, my boots hooked between

the slats.

"Yeah. That'd be good. Save us a trip to town," Adam decided.

"How much gas do you have in your truck?" Crane asked me, coming closer.

"A little over a quarter of a tank, I think," I said carelessly.

"You know you should never get under a half a tank," Crane told me.

"I know," I said, hoping to forestall a lecture. My money from my savings, that I'd tucked away while working for Doc G was nearly gone. I had to

be miserly with it.

Crane dug into his pocket and pulled out a ten dollar bill. "Get some gas," he said, handing the money to me.

I took the money from him. "I can wait to get it," I protested mildly.

"You could. Probably. But I don't want you to. Get some gas," he said, with a frown.

"Yes, Crane," I said, demurely.

"I mean it," he said.

"Yes, sir," I said, giving him a wide-eyed teasing look.

He shook his head at me, and I hopped to the ground from my position on the fence.

"This is why I need to get a job," I said, casually, for the benefit of anyone listening.

Crane, who'd been about to walk away, stopped walking to turn back to me.

"We've talked about this already," he reminded me.

"I know. But I could find something that was only on Saturdays, maybe. What's the harm in that?"

"We agreed you should wait until summer to take another job," Crane continued with his reminder.

The way I remembered the conversation, it hadn't been quite that way. Crane, and Adam, too, had told me that

I needed to wait until summer before getting another job, and instead just concentrate on school and all of that. There wasn't, as I recall,

much agreement on my part. I'd come home from a shift at the Dari Kurl, and they'd told me. Period. End of discussion.

"Lots of kids work on Saturdays," I pointed out, determined to make my point.

"Harlie, hush it," Adam told me.

I flicked my glance to Adam, and then back to Crane, who was looking irritated. Brian, on the other hand, was

barely concealing his amusement at the conversation.

I decided that Adam's warning was probably a wise one. It takes a lot to tick Crane off. Once there, a person has to work

their way back to his good side slowly. I decided I didn't want to have to do that.

I have a apologetic shrug of my shoulders. "Okay," I said, meeting Crane's eyes.

He was still looking miffed, and I added, for good measure, "Sorry for arguing with you."

Crane gave a brief nod. "Don't forget to hit the gas station," is all he said, though.

"Okay," I told him, and went inside to tell Hannah that I was leaving. Of course, anyone going to town runs the risk

of being sent on other necessary family errands. This morning was no exception.

Hannah, who was looking a bit frazzled, looked up from where she was alternately stirring something that looked like soup on the stove,

and folding baby laundry, spoke up over Isaac's cries.

"Sweetie, can you stop at the drugstore and get some teething gel for Isaac, please?"

I paused beside Isaac's baby bouncer that was setting on the table, holding a clearly-distressed Isaac.

I caught his small fingers in my hand. "What's wrong, little man?" I asked him, leaning down close to his little red face.

"He's miserable," Hannah answered.

"It's hard to believe that he's teething already," I said.

"It is," Hannah agreed. "I don't know where my purse is. Ask Adam for some cash for the medicine, alright?"

"Okay," I said. I kissed Isaac's fingers. "See you later, Scooter," I told him, and went back outside, my keys in hand, to look

for Adam.

So, armed with money from Crane for gas, and money from Adam for Isaac's swollen little gums, I started for town.

7

I made my first stop at the feed store, drinking a grape Nehi from the pop machine while the guys there loaded the back of the

truck with sacks of feed.

Across the street, at the lumberyard, I saw Eddie coming out, carrying a couple of boards and helping an older man that I didn't recognize

load them into his truck.

I paused, watching him covertly, and when he was done, he turned and looked across the street at me. I was a little embarrassed, and hoped

that he hadn't thought I was just standing there staring at him. He waved, and I waved back, trying to look casual.

After a moments hesitation, he sprinted across the non-busy street, coming to stand beside me.

"Hey, Harlie," he greeted me.

"Hi, Eddie."

"How're you doing?"

"I'm good. How are you?" I asked.

"I'm good, too," he said, and then both of us were silent for a couple of moments.

Eddie's eyes crinkled in amusement. "Since we both know the other one is doing so well, maybe we should talk about the weather now, huh?"

I gave him a smile. "Maybe so," I said, taking a long drink of my pop.

"What're you up to today?" he asked me then.

"Running errands, stuff like that," I said.

"I'd ask you to get a Coke at Butch's, but I've still got a couple hours of work left," he said, and I couldn't help the leap of my heart.

I didn't know if Evan would consider getting a Coke together a date or not, but if Eddie had been able to, I would have gladly gone to

Butch's with him, and told Evan about it later.

"That would have been fun," I said, trying to sound casual.

"Yeah. Well, maybe another time," Eddie said. sounding just as casual.

"Okay."

When we'd said goodbye and he'd headed back across the street, and the feed was all loaded, I got into my truck, driving to

the drugstore to get Isaac's teething medicine. There were at least three types of gel to choose from, and so I read the back of all the

boxes, and then chose one, going up to the front to hand it to Mr. Vawter.

"Don't tell me that baby is old enough to need this," Mr. Vawter said, sounding jovial.

"He is. It's hard to believe," I agreed.

Mr. Vawter ran thru the family, asking questions about most everyone.

He finished with Daniel, saying, "Are you all going to have to go to Tennessee and hogtie that boy to get him back here for

a visit?"

"It might come to that," I said, and then made my exit from the drugstore, tossing the sack with Isaac's meds into the seat beside me.

I saw Marie out front of the café, sweeping the front walk. I honked at her, and she turned to wave, as I slowed down, and rolled down

my window.

"Hello, honey-girl!" she called.

"Hello!"

"Are you coming in to visit me?"

"I will! A little later," I told her.

"Alright!" she said, and waved again.

I couldn't bring myself to park directly in front of the veterinarian office. I parked across the street. I wasn't actually certain that

I could go thru with this. Going into the office, where there were so many, many memories. Maybe this was a bad idea. I was debating, giving myself

a pep talk, when I heard a voice call to me.

"Hullo, Harlie!"

It was Ivy, and I got out of the truck, raising my hand in greeting.

"Hi."

"I got your message. I was out on a call."

I nodded. "That's okay."

"Do you know Dale DeHoff?" she asked.

I nodded again, trying to keep my face in a neutral expression. "I do."

Ivy looked at me, her mouth turned up in amusement. "Wheee," she said, and I giggled.

"Yep," I agreed. "I know exactly what you mean."

Without thinking about it, I added, "Doc G used to say Dale was a real character."

Ivy smiled. "I'd say Doc G nailed it on that one."

"Yeah," I said, feeling a twinge at the thought of Doc G's blue eyes crinkled in amusement.

"I was out there late last night," Ivy continued on. "I've got to run back out again here in a bit."

"Oh. Did you want to wait on looking thru Doc G's record books, then?" I asked her.

"We can. Would you like to ride out to Dale's with me?" she offered.

I was so surprised that I didn't answer for a moment.

Suddenly, I thought that yes, I would like that. I liked Ivy, and I missed going out on calls with Doc G. Though this wouldn't be

the same at all, I still thought it sounded interesting. And definitely preferable to entering the memory-filled vet office. If I could

put that off till another time, that would be fine with me.

"Yes," I told her. "Sure. I'll go with you."

"Great. Let me run in and get some more supplies. I'll meet you at my truck in a few minutes."

7


	31. The storm of Dale

I'd wondered briefly, what Ivy and I would talk about on our ride to Dale's, or if it would an awkward silence. But it wasn't. Ivy began

talking about some of the Murphys locals that she'd met so far, and asking me some questions about who was married to who, and all of that stuff.

I filled her in on things, finding her easy to talk to. She had Blue, her poodle, along, and he laid between us in the seat, his head resting on Ivy's leg

as she drove.

We were about halfway out to Dale's, when she said, quietly, sounding interested, "Tell me about Doc G, Harlie."

I looked at her, a little startled.

"I've heard a lot from people, but I'd like to hear something about him from somebody that knew him well," she went on.

At first I wished that I could say I didn't want to talk about him. But I understood how she would want to know more about Doc G, since

he'd been the vet in our area for so many years.

When I paused and considered what to say, I thought maybe I would just tell a couple of things, light things, nothing

that would cause my heart to squeeze in pain.

"Well, he was born in Ireland," I said, and Ivy looked surprised.

"Was he? That's interesting."

"He came to the United States when he was little. Five or six, I think. He lived all over the U.S., before he settled here."

"And he'd been around here a long time, right?" she asked.

I couldn't remember a time when Doc G hadn't been a fixture in Murphys. I thought back a ways. "About ten years, I think."

She nodded, and before I thought it out, I told her about some of the things that Doc G had done for older people in our area, who were

housebound. How he'd taken them groceries, and tended to their pets for no charge.

"He was a fine man, it sounds like," Ivy said.

"He was," I said, feeling my throat tighten. "He was one of the best people I've ever known-"

"You were lucky to know him," Ivy said.

"Yeah. I was," I agreed.

I was glad when Ivy turned the conversation to Dale DeHoff, and the reason that we were heading out to his place.

7

Once at Dale's, greeted by his raucous dogs, Ivy led the way to the barn, where Dale was standing beside a mare. He was dressed in his typical

clothing of bib overalls. He greeted Ivy with a brusque, "About time you was gettin' here."

Ivy didn't respond to that, but merely said, "Hello, Dale," and went to kneel beside the mare, unwrapping the bandages around the

horse's knee.

When I followed Ivy into the stall, Dale gave me his squinted-eye look.

"Well, it's you again, gal," he said.

I wasn't really certain just what that meant. I nodded at him, and didn't say anything.

"Started up bleedin' again last evening," Dale said. "Put some cayenne pepper on it."

Ivy gave Dale a surprised look, and then looked towards me. "Why do that?" she asked Dale.

Dale gave her a look that suggested she was off in the head. "Best thing for a bleedin' wound," he told her. "Guess I shouldn't be surprised that a city

gal like you won't have heard of it."

Ivy was professional. I'll give her that. She didn't show emotion as far as looking insulted by what he said. The only indication that I saw that showed

her annoyance was a tightening around her mouth. She went on and tended to the wound that had, as she told me in the truck, been caused by a wire fence,

dabbing on medication, and then wrapping it in clean bandages again. She finished off by giving a shot of antibiotics in the horse's rump.

I held the mare, talking to it quietly while Ivy gave the injection, and then I began picking up her supplies and putting them back into her bag.

Dale took Ivy off towards another corner of the barn, where he had one of his sheep penned up. The ewe was lying down, its' breathing labored.

"Been that way since this mornin' early," Dale volunteered.

Ivy examined the sheep, who was obviously distressed.

"It might be toxoplasmosis," Ivy said. "I'll need to do a blood test to be certain."

Dale said a few choice swear words, and started muttering about his sheep herd being contaminated.

"Well, let's check a few things out before we say that," Ivy told him.

I asked Ivy if she wanted me to get what she needed from the truck in order to do the blood test.

"Yes, Harlie, thank you," she said, sounding appreciative.

I ran to the truck, gathering things up, and then hurried back. Ivy drew the blood, and talked to Dale, telling him she'd let him know

the results. I, meanwhile, gathered things up again.

As Ivy cautioned Dale to keep the ewe, and any others that showed signs of illness, contained away from the others, Dale leveled a look at

her.

"Don't need no little bit of a gal to tell me somethin' that's just good common sense," Dale said, speaking as if Ivy was a 12 year old girl.

I saw something pass over Ivy's face, and I had to grit my teeth to keep still. Dale didn't need to be so rude to her, I thought.

After telling Dale that she'd be back the next day or on Monday to check on both the mare and the ewe, we began walking toward

the truck.

"My gosh," Ivy muttered under her breath.

We climbed into the truck, and Ivy started the motor. As we pulled out of the driveway, and Blue rearranged his head back onto

Ivy's leg, I said into the quiet, "Dale's just like that. He's that way with most everybody."

"Thanks, Harlie," Ivy said. "But I'll bet he didn't talk that way to Doc G, did he?"

"Well," I hesitated, "maybe not quite so rude as he was. But when he'd say something that he shouldn't to Doc G, or start swearing, Doc G

would tell him to take himself out of the barn, or wherever we were, until he could keep a civil tongue in his head."

Ivy was regarding me, her eyes wide. "Are you serious?" she asked, as if she thought I was joking.

"Oh, I'm serious," I told her.

"Wow," Ivy said, and for a few minutes there was silence in the cab of the truck, as if she was thinking over what I'd said.

Finally, Ivy turned to me, her smile back in place. "You were so much help today, Harlie."

"It's alright."

"Well, it saved me a lot of steps. I really appreciate it."

"It's okay. It was fun," I told her.

She gave me a measuring look. "You really mean that, don't you? That going out on calls like this is fun for you?"

"Yeah. I mean it."

Ivy smiled at me. "You know we're few, and rare, don't you? Females who find this sort of day a fun time. There's not many of us."

"Yeah," I agreed. "I haven't met too many girls my age who don't mind the mess. They like animals alright, but only the cuddling part."

Ivy burst out laughing. "That is dead on correct," she said.

"Want to grab a bite to eat before you head home?" she offered.

"Is it lunchtime already?" I asked in surprise.

Ivy gave her watch a quick glance. "Close to it. It's after eleven."

"Oh," I said in surprise. "I should probably get home, then." Then, remembering the reason I'd come to town to meet her originally, I added, "Maybe we can do the

records another time."

Ivy parked her truck on the main street, in front of the vet office, and turned to me with a questioning look. "Hmm?" she asked.

"The record books?" I reminded her.

"Oh. Yes," she said, sort of vaguely.

When I put my mind to it, I started thinking how Ivy had approached me right off, asking if I could help her out, that day outside the

grocery store. And then asking me again about it, a couple of more times.

Ivy is obviously very observant, and she caught my unspoken questioning demeanor.

She turned off the ignition, and turned to face me in the truck seat.

"Harlie, I'd like us to be friends."

"Okay," I said, wondering where she was going with this.

"And I like to be honest with my friends."

"Okay," I said again.

"When I met your brothers at the Cattlemen's meeting awhile back, remember I told you about that?"

I nodded, and she went on. "Well, they both mentioned that you had been very involved in helping Doc G, and that you were

struggling with the pain of his death."

That was all true enough and I nodded. It wasn't all that surprising to me that Adam and Crane would mention that to her.

"They felt you were at loose ends, so to speak. Struggling to stay busy and positive," Ivy said.

"Uh huh."

"They-well, Adam, he felt as though maybe hanging around with me occasionally might help, sort of cause you to dip your

feet back in to doing what you'd loved so much."

I was stunned into silence. My first reaction was hurt. How could Adam think that being with anyone else, even as nice as Ivy was,

fill the void from Doc G?

"Oh," I managed, though I wanted to say a lot more. Quick tears sprung to my eyes.

"Harlie," she said quietly. "You can say what you feel. It won't offend me."

"Well, alright," I said, winding up. "Adam shouldn't have done that. He shouldn't have asked you to do that-pretend you needed my help." I took a

deep breath. "It wasn't right of him. Sometimes he-" I hesitated just short of criticizing Adam.

Ivy was looking at me seriously. "Adam might have talked with me about it, Harlie, and suggested it. But I'm the one who made the

decision. I didn't have to do it."

When I was silent, she prompted me. "Well, did I?" She sounded determined.

I had to smile a little. "No. I guess you didn't."

"No, I didn't. And besides," she said, with a nudge to my arm, "Can you honestly think that I wouldn't need help with those

record books of Doc G's? I mean, seriously, come on. The man invented his own system of bookkeeping. And, Holy Toledo, it's a

mess." She rolled her eyes in an exaggerated expression, which was, I knew, intended to amuse me.

I smiled at her again. "Yes, it is," I agreed.

"And today, well today, I did enjoy having you along with me. And you really were a help."

"I'm glad," I said.

"So, maybe it started out, asking you to help with the books, but I'd be more than happy to have you consent to come

around every once in a while, or even more often, to go out with me on a call."

I thought about refusing, but Ivy seemed sincere. And even if Adam had gone overboard on his "dadism" and trying to look out

for me, that was no reason to refuse to do something that I would enjoy. And give me more experience in the veterinarian field, as well.

"Okay," I said. "I'd like to do that, I think."

"Great," Ivy said. As she got out of the truck, holding Blue under one arm, she said, "Sure you don't want to grab a hamburger or

something?"

I was tempted to, partly because I'd promised Marie that I would come by and see her.

"I'll have to call home, so nobody's worried about me," I said.

"Okay. Want to go in and call?" she offered, gesturing towards the vet office.

"No, I can use Marie's phone," I said, and she said, obviously understanding that I didn't really want to go into the office,

"Okay. Let me put Blue inside, and I'll meet you over at Marie's, alright?"

I said okay, and walked across the street to the café. Since it was lunchtime, it was busy. Most of the tables and booths were filled

with customers.

Marie was waiting tables, along with Trudy, a high school senior. Marie gave me a wave, motioning me over to the counter.

"Hello, honey-girl," she greeted me.

I told Marie that Ivy was going to be coming along in a couple of minutes, and Marie nodded. "Why don't you two just sit here at the

counter? That way we can visit a bit."

"Okay, but can I use the phone?" I asked her.

Marie nodded, and told me to go back to her office to call, where it was more private than the pay phone on the wall.

I went back into the immaculate little office, and sat at her desk, picking up the phone to dial. As the phone began ringing, I

looked into a picture of Guthrie and I, on horseback, taken when we were much younger. Like I said, Marie thinks of us as her

grandkids, almost.

The phone rang quite a few times, and then finally an out-of-breath voice answered.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Evan," I said.

"Hey, shortcake."

"Can you tell everybody that I'm staying in town a little longer?"

"Tell them?" Evan asked, putting an emphasis on the word 'Tell'.

"Well, ask them then," I amended.

Evan laughed a little. "I'll pass you off," he said, and I heard the phone receiver be laid down with a clatter.

I sighed, drumming my fingers on the table, waiting. The phone was picked up again with a "What's up?" from Adam.

"Ivy asked me to go eat lunch at the café," I told him.

"Oh. Well, okay."

"I'll be home after that."

"Okay," he said again. "You havin' a good morning?"

I hesitated, thinking that I would talk to Adam about what he'd said to Ivy. But not over the telephone.

"Yeah. I went out to Dale DeHoff's with her."

I heard Adam chuckle a little. "Oh, boy," he said.

"Yeah." Then I thought of something. "I have Isaac's teething stuff," I said, suddenly thinking guiltily of Isaac's red little face, all scrunched up in misery.

"Okay. Hannah gave him some baby Tylenol. He's asleep right now. Go on and eat lunch if you want to."

We said goodbye, and I hung up. If Ivy hadn't already told me, I might have, if I'd been paying attention, been aware that Adam was being pretty darn accommodating as

far as me hanging around with Ivy.

I went back out to the counter, where Ivy was already sitting, and Marie was setting two lunch specials in front of her and me.

"Working gals need something more than a hamburger," Marie said, and Ivy looked at the multitude of meat loaf and potatoes, along with carrots and a roll.

"It looks good," she said, and when Marie had bustled away to help another customer, I said, really low, "That's Marie for you. Always trying to feed people up."

We ate our lunch, and talked about where Ivy had gone to college. She asked me questions about what my college plans were. I told her I was thinking

of S.C. Davis, and she made a murmuring of approval.

"That's a great school, I've heard," she said. "Pricey, though."

I nodded, but didn't feel right about disclosing the fact that Doc G had made it possible for me to attend there. Maybe I would tell her sometime later, if we continued

to be friends.

We parted ways after lunch, standing at my truck. "I'll be glad of any help you want to throw my way, Harlie," Ivy said. "I can't pay a whole lot. Not right now, anyway, but I'd

love to have you."

"That's okay," I told her. "I'd like to help you."

"Okay," Ivy said, and smiled at me. "Thanks for helping me to weather the 'Dale DeHoff' storm."

"No problem," I said, and we said goodbye. I was halfway home before I remembered that I hadn't stopped to get gas.

7

For the guest who commented that they would like to see Harlie "rebel" a bit more, hang on, that's coming! Harlie can only be agreeable for a short while!

Lol


	32. Turnabout

My quarter of a tank of gas, as I'd reported to Crane earlier, had actually been an eighth of a tank. I'd noticed that when I'd been driving

to town earlier. And now here I was, half home, and my eighth of a tank had made its way to empty.

The truck began to jerk a little, and the speed began to decrease, even though I was pressing and then pumping on the accelerator. I knew what

was happening, but I still kept pressing on it, like some sort of idiot, or something. As if I expected all that pumping to suddenly make the truck not be

out of gas. As I drifted to a stop, I guided the truck more to the side of the road, where it stopped.

I sat there for a full five minutes, contemplating what to do.

"Bat shit," I muttered, and looked around. I was near Valerie's father's ranch. I thought maybe a mile or so away. Well, there was

no help for it. Time to start walking to a phone. I put my keys in my pocket of my jacket, and tucked my wallet under the seat of the truck. I started out

at a good pace, walking towards the ranch.

As I walked, I could hear the voices of brothers in my head. Crane, especially. Though he's not given to lectures as a general rule,

there were always exceptions. This was likely to be one of those exceptions. And if he did decide to deliver one, I knew he was right. That's what

was so humiliating. I'd just gotten so caught up in my morning with Ivy, and all. It could happen to anyone. I realized that I was rehearsing in my

mind what I could use as an excuse to Crane.

When I reached the house, I looked around and didn't see anyone at any of the barns. I knocked on the front door, and waited. When there

was no answer, I knocked again, harder this time. Still nothing.

I stood there, taking in the fact that the first house I walked to had nobody at home.

Gahhh. I stood there, muttering again. "Bat shit!"

I hiked back to my truck, and went the opposite direction. The Lewis ranch was the nearest one that way. My feet were aching by the time

I reached their house. Mrs. Lewis opened the door to my knock.

"Hello, Harlie," she greeted me with a welcoming smile.

"Hello, Mrs. Lewis," I said. "I ran out of gas. Could I use your phone?"

"Oh, certainly you can, dear. Come in," she said, and stepped aside, ushering me into the house.

She showed me where the phone was, and I dialed the home number.

I was praying for Guthrie or Evan to answer, or even Brian, though I knew more than likely they were all outside working.

When I heard Guthrie's cheerful voice saying hello, I couldn't believe my luck!

"Guthrie!"

"Hey. What's up?"

"I need you to come and bring me some gas for the truck!"

"How come?" he asked.

Seriously? "Are you kidding?" I demanded. "Because I ran out of gas, doofus!"

"I thought Crane gave you some money for gas-" Guthrie began.

"He did! I forgot to get it!"

"Good grief, Har," Guthrie said.

"Never mind that," I said. "Just bring me the gas. I'm about a mile north of the Lewis's." I turned to see Mrs. Lewis, bless her heart, still

standing there, listening to every word, and smiling at me.

I tried to smile back, and then I hissed into the phone. "Please, Guth! Just come."

One of the Lewis kids came in, calling to their mother, and Mrs. Lewis turned to deal with him.

I took my opportunity to finish with Guthrie in privacy. "Are you coming?" I demanded.

"Yeah. I'll come."

"Okay! And can you get away without telling anybody? Make up an excuse, or something."

"I'll try."

I wished I could reach thru the phone and pinch Guthrie for his cavalier attitude.

"You do more than just 'try'!" I told him. "You owe me!"

"I do not owe you," Guthrie denied.

"Just come!" I said, and hung up.

"Everything alright?" Mrs. Lewis asked me. "You have someone coming?"

"Yes, ma'm," I said. "Thank you."

"Would you like a glass of tea before you go?" she offered.

"No, thank you," I told her.

I made my way outside, with Mrs. Lewis and little Tory following me.

"I can give you a ride to your vehicle," Mrs. Lewis offered.

"Oh, that's alright," I told her. "I can walk. It's just a bit up the road."

The fairly chubby Mrs. Lewis smiled at that remark and shook her head a bit. "At your age, my goodness, for a mile to be 'just a bit' of walking."

I smiled agreeably because I knew she expected me to. "Yes, ma'm. Well, thank you again."

"Anytime at all, dear. Tell the family I said hello."

"I will," I told her, and made my escape.

I hiked back to my truck, and once there, I only had to wait for about twenty minutes before I saw Guthrie's truck

coming from the opposite direction.

I got out as he pulled up. He went to the back to pull out a red gas can.

"Where did you tell everybody you were going?" I demanded.

"Hello to you, too," Guthrie said, dryly.

"Hello, Guth," I greeted him. "Where did you tell everybody you were going?"

"Nobody around but Hannah. I told her I was goin' to Trent's for awhile. I'll head over there once I get you goin'."

"Oh. That's good," I said in relief. "I don't want Crane to know I ran out of gas."

"It's not like it's a crime or anything," Guthrie pointed out, as he began to pour gas into my tank.

"No. But he was all serious about it, and-well, you know how he is."

When Guthrie had emptied the contents of the red can into my truck, he twisted my gas cap back on.

"There you go," he said.

"Thanks."

Guthrie put the can back into the bed of his truck. "Alright. See ya at home later," he said.

"Okay. See you," I echoed, and we each went our separate directions.

When I got home and parked in my customary spot, I headed for the house, looking around. I didn't see a sign of anyone. I went

into the house. The day was so warm that the windows had been opened in the living room. You have to love California weather in March.

Nobody in the kitchen, either. I went upstairs, carrying Isaac's bag of medicine.

The door to Hannah and Adam's room was open, just by a crack. I peered around, and could hear Hannah talking to the baby. I found

her in the bathroom, Isaac in the sink, where she was giving him a bath.

"Hi, sweetie," she said, when she turned to see me.

"Hi." I held up the sack. "Here's the teething stuff."

"Ok. Just put it on the counter there."

I laid the sack down and turned to watch Isaac, splashing in the water.

"How was your morning?" she asked.

"Good."

"You like Ivy?"

"I do. She's-" I hesitated. "She's real. You know what I mean?"

"I do. I know exactly what you mean."

I sat down on the edge of the bathtub. I wondered if Hannah knew what Adam had done, talking to Ivy about me. More than likely, she did.

She and Adam are pretty much a team. Even if she'd hadn't known beforehand, he'd probably told her afterwards.

"Do you think I've taken too long, mourning over Doc G?" I asked.

Hannah turned to me, looking surprised. "What?"

"Have I taken too long?" I repeated. "Should I be over it by now?"

"Harlie, for heaven's sake, what sort of question is that?"

I shrugged, wordlessly.

Hannah gave me a telling look, and then lifted Isaac from the sink, wrapping him in a towel. "Can you get him dressed, while I clean

up in here?" she asked me.

I took the baby from her, and went to lay him on the bed, where there was powder, and a clean onesie and diaper waiting.

I dried him off, and then blew some raspberries on his stomach, which made him smile.

After that I sprinkled some powder on him, smoothing it around. Hannah came out of the bathroom, drying her hands and arms

on a towel. She sat down on the edge of the bed, watching as I began to dress Isaac.

"You don't just 'get over' someone's death, Harlie. You know that. It's a process," Hannah said.

I nodded, and kept on fitting Isaac's little arms and legs into the onesie.

"What's this about?" she asked me, as I finished with the snaps on the onesie.

I picked up the baby and gave him a kiss, and then handed him to Hannah.

"Ivy said Adam talked to her about me. He told her I was at loose ends and having a hard time dealing with Doc G not being

around."

I said 'not being around'. I couldn't bring myself to say 'dead'.

Hannah nodded, not looking surprised. "What's wrong with that?" she asked.

"Nothing. I guess. But then he asked her to ask me if I wanted to help her out. Hang around with her."

"Oh. That," Hannah said, and I knew then that she had been told. I could tell.

She sighed a little, lifting Isaac up higher onto her shoulder to pat his back. "Sit down here a minute," she said.

I sat down beside her on the bed, and she said, "Adam did that, it's true."

"Well, he shouldn't have," I said staunchly.

"Well," Hannah considered. "Maybe not. But he did it with pure motives, sweetie."

"Humph," I muttered, in answer.

Hannah looked at me with her disappointed look. "Why does it bother you so much? Did Ivy make you feel as though she

was only doing it because Adam asked her to?"

"No," I said, honestly. "She wanted me to go with her today. She meant it. I could tell that."

"There you go, then."

"Yes. But he still shouldn't have said anything to her," I insisted stubbornly.

"Do you expect perfection from him, Harlie?" Hannah asked. She sounded a little irritated.

"No. I don't," I protested.

"Well, then, there's going to be times in the years ahead that he says or does something concerning you that you think he

shouldn't have. When that happens, you need to remember that he always, and I mean always, has your best interests as

his number one priority."

"I know that," I said.

"He's raised all boys to adulthood up until now," Hannah reminded me. "Raising you? That's something new to him. He's feeling his way. He's going to make mistakes. You need to understand that."

I nodded. I did understand what Hannah was saying. I was still a little put out at Adam, though. Not angry. Just more irritated. But Hannah had

stated her opinion, and that was the end of it.

But, apparently, that wasn't really quite the end of it, because Hannah went on. "And sometimes, what you think are mistakes that's he's making, they may not

be mistakes. You have to trust that sometimes he knows more about some things than you do. And how to handle some situations."

Wow. This was winding up to be a real lecture.

"Okay," I said. I stood up, wiping my hands on my jeans.

"You can take a bath in here if you want to," Hannah offered.

"Maybe later. I'm gonna go look for Ford," I told her.

"Alright. Harlie?" she said, as I went to the door.

"Huh?" I said turning back.

"If it's bothering you, talk to Adam about it. Don't let it simmer inside."

"Okay," I said, and went out the bedroom and down the stairs.

I went in search of Ford, and found him, along with Evan, rolling up wire out behind the barn.

"Hey, fellas," I said.

"Hey," Ford answered.

"Want to get pizza tonight?" I asked Ford.

"He can't," Evan said, shooting a grin in Ford's direction. "He's got a date."

"Oh. Who with?" I asked.

"Valerie," Ford said.

"Oh, I thought she wasn't at home this weekend," I said, without thinking it out.

"Why do you think that?" Ford asked me, straightening up, and handing the fence snips to Evan.

"Never mind," I said. I knew Ford, or Evan either, wouldn't say anything about me running out of gas earlier. Well, Evan might

give me a hard time over it, and tell me to turn my brain on, or something like that, but neither one of them would tell Crane if I

didn't want them to.

"She's at home this weekend," Ford went on. "I'm supposed to pick her up at six."

"Oh. That's good," I said.

"Yeah," Ford said. "What are you doing tonight?" he asked me.

I shrugged. "No plans."

"What about Kenny?" Evan asked, from his end of the wire.

"What about Kenny?" I returned, turning to look at him.

"Well, aren't you still goin' out with him?" Evan asked, coming up to stand beside Ford and I.

"I guess," I said vaguely.

"You don't sound very happy about it," Evan said, and I could tell he was winding up to give me a hard time, and start teasing.

"Kenny's okay," I said. I turned to Ford to start asking him where he was going to take Valerie later.

"Just OK?" Evan said, needling me. "I thought you two were a real item by now."

"Stop it, Ev," I said, feeling irritated.

"Cause I think Kenny's been bitten by the loooove bug," Evan went on.

I knew the worst thing I could do was show my irritation. That would likely make Evan tease me even more. It was hard not to show it, though.

"I mean the boy has got it bad," Evan said. "You can see it the way he gets all moony-eyed whenever he looks at you-"

"Leave her alone, Ev," Ford said, reaching down to pick up some tools on the ground.

"Oh, Har knows I'm just jokin' around with her, don't you, shortcake?" Evan said.

"Sure," I said, purposely sounding casual, and then I decided to have a bit of fun of my own at Evan's expense. I mean, turnabout is fair play, right?

I sat down on a roll of the wire, kind of rocking back and forth on it.

"Kenny's nice, and all, but I think we're just really better off being friends," I said.

While I had their attention, I gave my fingernails a casual glance, and said, "He understands how things are now. I mean, considering what's

happened and all."

"What d'ya mean?" Evan demanded.

Ah. I'd hooked him.

"Oh, since I met-" I purposely let my voice trail off. "Well, since we both met other people that we want to get more serious with."

"Who have you met?" Evan asked then, and I could tell he was trying to rein himself in, so he sounded casual, and not all that interested.

I just smiled, trying to look mysterious. "You know how it is. When you meet somebody really special, you don't want to talk about it at

first, because you don't want to jinx it or anything."

"Okay. But who's the guy?" Evan persisted. "Somebody we know?"

I pretended to act flustered. "Oh, I don't think you guys would know him-at least I'm pretty sure you wouldn't-"

"Well, maybe we do," Evan said. "Tell us his name and we'll let you know if we know him."

I shrugged, and tried to look shy. "I don't know, Ev. I kind of want to keep it to myself for a little while."

"Is it somebody from school?" he asked then.

"Nooo, he's not from school," I said, purposely acting as though I was hesitant to answer.

"How old is this guy?" Evan went on. He was frowning by now, no trace of teasing left.

"Well," I said slowly, as if I was thinking, "He's older. But not too old. You don't have to worry, Ev." I smiled sweetly, and stood

up.

"You can't just tell me somethin' about some new guy, and then not give up the details," Evan insisted.

"Oh, I want to tell you," I said, trying to sound reassuring. And then I snapped my fingers, as if I was just remembering something. "I forgot! I need to make

a phone call! I'll see you guys later." And, with that I sprinted towards the house.

I could hear Evan calling something after me, but I just waved my hand and ran on. By the time I reached the front door, I had to cover my

mouth and hurry in so that Evan wouldn't see how hard I was laughing.

Once inside, I looked out the screen door, back over to where Ford and Evan were standing. I could tell Evan was all stirred up, because he

was talking and waving his hands all around.

I giggled and said quietly, to myself, "There. That's what you get for teasing me, Evan Wayne McFadden."

7


	33. Hannah And Adam

I was still feeling some satisfaction at getting Evan all stirred up while I took a bath, and then went down to help get supper

ready. As I was setting the table, the phone began ringing.

"I'll get it!" I called out, loud enough for everybody within range to hear.

My hello was breathless.

"Could I speak to Harlie McFadden, please?" a male voice asked.

"This is Harlie."

"This is Nathan Reynolds," the voice said, rather abruptly.

I was silent, thinking. I had absolutely no idea who this person was.

"Hello?" the voice said, as if thinking I'd hung up.

"Yes?" I said.

"We've had some progress on the case, and we may be needing some more information. Would you be available

to come into Angels Camp to talk with us?"

I felt as though I'd entered the twilight zone or something. I didn't know who he was. And I had no idea what

he was talking about at all.

I'd begun to wonder if it was a prank call or something. I heard a deep sigh. That was it. It must be

Guthrie or Trent messing around. Or Kenny.

"You guys are so hilarious," I said, sarcastically.

There was a silence on the other end of the telephone. "Hellooooooo," I said, dragging the word out sarcastically.

"Hello. Yes," the voice said.

"Quit joking around," I warned, still sure it was Trent or Guthrie.

"I assure you, I am not in any way joking around, as you put it." The voice was decidedly snappy now. "This is Nathan Reynolds."

"Yes?" I asked.

"From Animal Control?" he prompted then. "We met with the dog release? A few months ago? You were with Doctor O'Brien?"

Ah! Now I got it! It was that pompous ass I'd met that day when we were helping to remove the dogs. Bastardo, as I'd dubbed him

that day.

"Oh, yeah," I said. "I remember you now."

I don't know just what he thought of my comment, but he went on talking.

"I've been trying to get in touch with you," he said. "I called a few days ago-"

"Oh, yeah. My brother told me. You didn't leave a number, did you?"

He ignored my question, and said, "We're making some progress on the case-"

"That's fantastic!" I said, enthused. "What sort of progress?"

"We can talk about that when you come in to the office," he said, and I thought that he sounded just as

jerky as he had that day up on the hill.

"When do you want me to come?" I asked.

"As soon as possible. Would Monday or Tuesday of next week be an option?"

"What time?"

"Early in a morning is best here. Nine a.m.?"

"Alright. Monday at 9," I said.

"Alright. Fine," he said, and I think he was going to hang up.

I said quickly, "You know about Doc G, right?"

A momentary silence. "Yes. I heard." A pause again. "We'll talk on Monday then."

And with that, he hung up.

What a pompous, freaking jerk! Acting so nonchalant about Doc G! I was so mad I was shaking as I hung up. I went stomping back to the kitchen, flinging the

silverware around on the table.

"What's got your tail all twisted?" Brian asked me, with the candor of an older brother.

I stopped slinging silverware, and reported to the family members standing nearby about who had been on the phone, and

what he wanted.

"That sounds like good news," Crane said. "Like they're getting closer to being able to make some charges stick on that

guy."

"I hope so," I said, vehemently.

"So what's got you so steamed?" Brian asked again.

"This guy, Nathan, he's just such a prick," I said. "He was a jerk that day we were up there picking up all the dogs, and he's still a jerk! I said something about

Doc G, and he just said, 'I heard'! What an ass! Bastardo!"

"Harlie, you don't need to use that language," Hannah said, reaching around Brian and I to set a bowl of corn on the table.

"I'm not using any words that aren't totally the truth," I responded, with spirit.

"That doesn't mean that you need to say the words," Hannah pointed out, turning back to the stove.

"Sometimes they're the only words that suit the purpose," I said, still laying out the silverware, and I thought I heard Brian chuckle a little.

"Harlie," Hannah said, and her voice was so abrupt that I turned to face her.

"What?" I asked her.

She stood there, just looking at me, her expression a mixture of disappointment and annoyance.

When she didn't say anything, I said, again, "What, Hannah?"

It was then that I realized that the entire kitchen had gone quiet.

"I'm asking you to stop talking that way." There was no denying the terse tone to her voice, and it wasn't changed any by the addition of, "Please."

I felt sullen, and embarrassed in front of everybody. I looked towards Brian, who very studiously was avoiding my eye, and then at Crane, who was looking

all serious. In Crane-speak that sort of look generally means that he is disapproving.

"Okay," I said, my voice just as terse.

"I don't see why you're standing here arguing with me about it," Hannah said then.

I was so shocked that I stared at her. Where had my sweet, easygoing Hannah gone to?

"I'm not," I protested, feeling affronted. "I said okay!"

I felt a nudge in the center of my back. "Cool it," I heard Crane say, really quietly.

It took everything I had not to lay down the remaining forks and knives in my hand, and disappear out of the kitchen, outside. I would, I thought furiously to myself,

go get on Petra, and ride far up into the pasture-

I think I might have done it. I had actually opened my hand to lay down the silverware, when Crane said, "Finish setting the table," in that same quiet voice.

I looked up at him in silent protest, and he met my look right back.

I sighed in resignation. And as I turned to the table to finish setting it, I saw Adam standing there, in the doorway of the kitchen, listening.

He looked quizzical. Puzzled. And he looked mad, too.

I looked quickly away, and went back to my job.

7

Even though everybody started talking again right away, I still felt weird about the encounter with Hannah. And now Adam was probably mad at me for

talking back to Hannah.

I wished that I'd made plans to do something that night. I had no desire to spend my evening being lectured, or looked at in disapproval. I was contemplating

finishing my meal and going to call Lori to see what she was doing. Still, she was probably going out with Trent. I suddenly felt sorry for myself. For a day that had started out so promising, it was certainly looking to end on a low note.

I was glad to hear the front door shut, and see Guthrie bursting into the kitchen.

"Hey, everybody," he said cheerfully, going to the sink to wash his hands.

"Nice of you to honor us with your presence," Brian said, jokingly.

"Sorry I'm late," Guthrie said, going up behind Hannah's chair, to lean down and kiss her on the cheek.

Hannah looked up at Guthrie with a tolerant smile. "Sit down and eat before there's nothing left for you."

What?! It's not that I wanted Guthrie to get yelled at for being late. Of course I didn't. But why was Hannah so different with Guthrie than with me? Even if she was in a bad mood, she

hardly ever said a cross word to Guthrie. While I, on the other hand, seemed to irritate her more and more lately. At least, that's how it seemed to me.

Not for the first time, I envied Guthrie for his easy-going way with people. His sunny disposition and captivating grin drew others in.

I stabbed a piece of lettuce with my fork.

As Guthrie was filling his plate, he was still observant enough to notice that I was subdued, and miffed about something.

He gave me a nudge in the ribs with his elbow. When I turned to look at him, he raised his eyebrows in question, and I knew he was silently asking what

was bugging me.

I shook my head at him, very slightly, and filled my mouth with salad.

Everybody started talking about what their plans were for that evening. Guthrie said he was going back to Butch's to play pool with his friends. Evan had a date with Nancy, of course.

Ford had the date with Valerie that we'd discussed earlier. Crane had a date, too, with his "mystery" woman, that he had yet to reveal to

all of us. Brian said he and Clare might go out for awhile, too.

Brian leaned over closer to Clare. "What do you think?" he asked her. "Want to go boot-scootin' with me?"

Clare's pretty face lit up. "That would be fun! It seems like forever since we did that."

By the process of elimination, that left Adam and Hannah and me, at home for the evening. I could hardly suppress a groan. I thought that I would ask Guthrie if I could tag

along with him. Or, maybe I would just hole up in my room for the evening, with a bowl of popcorn and my mom's journal.

As I was thinking along those lines, Hannah spoke up with a sigh. "I think I'll give Isaac a bath and put him down for bed, and then have a long soak in the tub myself."

Adam looked down the table at her. "Gonna turn in early tonight?" he asked her.

Hannah nodded. "I think I will. It's been a really long week."

And even though I was irritated with her, I noticed how tired she looked as she said that.

Adam nodded. "Sounds like a good idea."

As everybody started standing up, and pushing in their chairs, I was still thinking my own thoughts. Maybe I'd go for a ride on Petra, I mused. I wasn't on dish duty. I knew because

I'd already checked. So I thought I'd go back up and change to my jeans and boots.

As the family began to disburse, I was ready to head up the back stairs to my room.

I was mid-way up the flight of stairs when I heard Adam's voice, and I turned back to look down at him as he said, "Hey."

"You have any plans tonight?" he asked me.

"Not really," I said, wondering why he was asking. "I thought I'd go riding for awhile, maybe."

"You feel like some company?" he asked me.

Adam and I used to go riding together all the time. But it had been a long time now, since we had.

I wondered if he was using this as an opportunity to ream me about Hannah, and if 'going riding' together was really just a euphemism.

If that was what he had planned, I really didn't want him to go along. But, what could I say, really?

"Okay," I said, without enthusiasm. A fact which was apparently evident to Adam, because he raised an eyebrow at me.

"Try to control your excitement," he said dryly, and I felt my face heat up in embarrassment.

"I'll meet you outside," Adam said then, and I nodded at him, going on up the stairs, muttering to myself.

Petra was saddled and ready to go, and I was nearly done saddling Adam's horse, too, by the time Adam joined me at the barn.

"Thanks," he told me, as I was finishing cinching his saddle.

"Welcome," I said.

Adam was carrying a rolled up blanket, and he tied that on behind his saddle.

I wondered briefly what it was for, but I didn't ask.

We both mounted our horses, and then Adam looked at questioningly. "Where you wanna ride to?" he asked.

"It doesn't matter," I told him. "Anywhere is fine with me."

"Let's just head north then," he said. "And see where we end up. Sound good to you?"

"Sounds good," I told him, and nudged Petra with my knees to start her off.

We rode thru the barn lot, and out past the barn, and then thru the pasture, among the cows, munching on their grass.

It was already beginning to cool off for the evening, and as the wind rustled thru my hair, I pulled my jacket collar up.

We were both quiet for a long time. After a few minutes, when he didn't immediately start in getting onto me about Hannah, I began to relax a little.

Being on horseback always does that for me.

When Adam did speak, he said, "Feeling better?"

I gave him a surprised sideways glance.

"Yeah," I said.

"You were always that way," Adam said. "Even when you were little, and all riled up about something, we could put you on a horse, and it seemed

to sooth your soul."

I thought of all those times, when I'd climbed on my pony, or, before I could mount by myself, been plunked into the saddle by a taller brother. And then, I'd snapped my

hat strap under my chin, and galloped off, working out whatever mad I had going on.

"I remember," I said.

After a few more minutes of silent riding, I ventured to ask, "I wasn't trying to argue with Hannah earlier."

Adam didn't say anything at first. After a few minutes, he said, "I guess to her it seemed as though you were."

"Well, I wasn't," I said, feeling righteous.

"Alright," he said.

I waited. He didn't say any more, and I looked at him, puzzled.

"So you're not gonna holler at me?" I asked him, wishing that if he planned to, that he would just get to it.

"Holler?" he asked. "I didn't think I did all that much hollering, as you put it."

"You know what I mean," I told him.

"I hadn't planned to scold you, if that's what you mean."

"Okay." I couldn't help the relief I felt.

"Hannah has her bad days, just like all of us," Adam said then. "I think today might have been one of those for her."

When I didn't answer, he went on. "She's entitled to have a rough day, too, every now and then."

"I know."

"Just try some understanding on your part when they do come along. It's not easy to be a new mom, and try to run the house, too."

"Okay," I said.

We'd gone quite a long distance by this time, and then sun was beginning to fade to orange in the sky, preparing for sunset.

I waited for Adam to suggest that we head back to the house, but he didn't say anything about it.

I decided that I would bring up the other issue on my mind.

"Ivy was telling me something this morning," I began.

"How's she doing?" he asked. "She getting along alright?"

"Pretty good, I think. Dale was rough with her. It shook her up a little."

"That's too bad," Adam said, sounding regretful. "I was afraid of that."

"Afraid of what?" I asked curiously.

"That some of the older ranchers around might give her bad time for awhile."

"Why would they do that?" I asked.

"Being a female, she's bound to have to face some of that stuff."

I thought about that for a moment. "That's not fair," I said.

"Nope. It's not. Hopefully it will pass."

I hadn't thought about facing any prejudice in my future as a female in the field of veterinary medicine.

I tucked the thought away to think about later on.

"Ivy told me you asked her to approach me," I said, returning to my original train of conversation.

Adam turned a little in his saddle so that he was looking at me more directly.

"Uh huh," he said, and sounded as if he was waiting for more to be said.

"You know how you say we can disagree with you, and be honest, as long as we're respectful about it?" I reminded him.

"That's right."

"Well, it made me feel kind of weird," I told him. "Ivy was nice about it, and all, but-" I hesitated. "I don't think you should have asked her to do it. It wasn't right."

He was quiet, and I was worried for a moment that I'd gone too far.

"How come?" he asked.

He didn't sound angry, or anything, so I went on. "Because. Even if I do hang around with her some, it's not going to make me stop missing Doc G."

"I know that, Harlie. That was the furthest thing from my mind. No one, or nothing but the passing of time is going to ease that pain for you. I know people aren't interchangeable like that."

I looked at him in curiousity. "What were you thinking then?" I asked.

"I just wanted you to have some joy again," he said simply. "I thought maybe doing some things with Ivy might do that for you."

"Oh."

After a couple of silent minutes, he said, "I see now that it wasn't the best idea I've ever had. I'm sorry, sugar."

An apology from Adam isn't unheard of. But it's also not a common thing, either. So I appreciated it for the substantial thing that it was.

"It's okay," I told him. "I know you were just trying to look out for me."

"Are we heading back?" I asked, a few minutes later.

"I guess we can," he said, and then he grinned at me. "If you're tired or somethin'."

"I'm not tired," I said stoutly. "I could ride all night." And I smiled back at him.

"Well. Alright, then," he said, and we rode on.

7


	34. Stargazing and Fine China

Adam and I rode for a ways farther after that. Eventually we stopped to stretch our legs, and to give the horses a rest.

The spot where we stopped at was one where I hadn't been for a long time. It was atop of a hill, overlooking the valley down below.

Almost to the border of our property. Petra was ground-tied, and I walked over to the edge of the cliff, looking down. By now it was nearly

dusk.

When I turned back towards Adam, he was untying the blanket that he'd brought along. And then he walked over closer to where I was,

and shook the blanket, spreading it out onto the ground.

I watched him as he lowered himself on the blanket, lying down and stretching out on his back, with his arms folded underneath

his head.

"What are you doing?" I asked him curiously.

"What's it look like?" he responded.

"It looks like you're going to take a nap," I said.

"I might," he said mildly. "But I thought we might do a little star-gazing first."

"Oh," I said.

When I just stood there, he turned his head to look at me. "Come on. Best seat in the house right here."

I went over and settled myself on the blanket next to him, folding my knees up, my arms wrapped around them.

We were quiet for a while, until the stars began to appear in the night sky. One or two at a time, until there was a entire

sky full. After awhile we began to point out stars to each other, differing good-naturedly on which ones were the brightest, or the biggest.

In a moment of quiet, I hugged my knees and said, "I hope Karissa decides to come to the house sometime."

"She called earlier. She's gonna stop by tomorrow afternoon."

I turned towards him, though I couldn't really see his face clearly in the darkness.

"Really?" I asked. "How come you didn't tell me?"

"It was when you were havin' your go-round with Hannah. Besides, I'm telling you now," he pointed out.

"Was she nice when she called?" I asked him.

"She was civil enough."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that she wasn't rude. And she wasn't friendly. She was civil," Adam said.

"Oh," I said, thoughtfully. I was wondering how it would go the next day. It was bound to be awkward.

Adam sat up, and then got to his feet. "We should head home."

I thought he sounded almost regretful, and I felt a pang of regret, too.

He held out a hand to me, lit up by the light from the moon, which was extremely bright tonight.

I took his hand, and he pulled me to my feet.

"It was fun," I said. "I'm glad we came."

"Me, too."

"Maybe we can do it again sometime soon," I offered.

"Just tell me when," Adam said, and I reached out to squeeze his hand. Mostly because it just felt like the right thing to do.

"Okay. I will."

We rode back to the house, not talking much. If I was honest about it, I would have to admit that if Adam hadn't been along, I might

have gotten lost in the dark going back. That's how far we had ridden.

At the barn, Adam switched on the lights, and we unsaddled our horses. By now I was tired, and sleepy.

"Tired?" Adam asked me, as we put Petra and Duke back into the pasture.

"Yeah. But it's a good kind of tired," I told him.

"Better get a snack before you turn in," he reminded me, as we headed across the yard to the house.

"Okay."

We headed thru the living room, lit with one lamp, into the kitchen together.

I pulled a bowl of macaroni from the fridge, and went to put it into the microwave.

"Want some?" I asked him, pulling down a plate from the cabinet.

"No. Thanks. I think I'll turn in."

"Okay." I turned to lean against the counter while the microwave heated the macaroni.

As Adam headed past me, towards the back stairs, he paused in front of me.

"Eat, and then get to bed, alright?"

"I will."

He smiled at me a little, and brushed a curl away from my face.

"I'm smart enough to know that Saturday nights like these with you are going to be fewer and more far between," he said.

I looked up at him questioningly.

"Spending a night, star-gazing with me," he said in explanation.

"I won't be too busy for that," I denied, thinking that he'd sounded a little sad.

In answer, Adam just smiled again, and then leaned over to kiss the top of my head.

"Night, sugar," he said.

"Night," I said, as he disappeared up the stairs.

Just at that moment, the timer on the microwave began to beep.

7777777

I was still feeling good the next morning about my evening with Adam. I approached Hannah with a cheerful good morning. She smiled at

me, and said, "Good morning, sweetie," but she looked distracted.

During breakfast, Hannah brought up the fact that she had called and invited Karissa to lunch. I looked at her in appreciation, but her statement

was met by nearly everybody else with a look of disbelief. Even displeasure.

"Why the hell did you do that?" Brian demanded, and Clare gave him a hard elbow to the ribs.

"Brian!" she said, looking irritated.

"Well, her comin' here is one thing," Brian went on, "but I don't particularly care to face her across the table for lunch."

"Well, that's too bad," Hannah said, in the same tone that she had used on me the day before. "Because I invited her, and she

accepted."

I looked towards Adam. He hadn't mentioned that the night before to me, and so I wondered if he knew what Hannah had done.

He was continuing to eat his bacon and eggs, and I couldn't really get a good read on him.

All Adam said was a grudging, "We all just have to make the best of it while she's here."

"You all act as though she's going to fly in on a broom or something," Clare said, lightly. I knew she was making a joke, and

trying to lighten things up a little.

But her joke landed flat, because nobody laughed. The only response she got was a "Humph," from Adam, and a

look from Brian, as he got up and pushed in his chair.

"Don't be any too surprised if she does just that," Brian said darkly, and went outside, letting the back door shut with a slam.

"Well, good grief," Clare muttered, sounding miffed. A few moments later, she said, "Excuse me," and got up from the table

and went up the back stairs.

I felt sorry for Clare, who I knew had only been trying to help. Brian didn't have to be such a bear, I thought. I wished I was

brave enough to follow him outside, and tell him so.

Self-preservation is a strong instinct. I thought that even though I was siding with Clare on this, it would be the wise

and prudent thing for me to keep my opinion to myself. Tangling with Brian wouldn't be a great start to the day.

Everybody went to church, with the exception of Evan, and Brian and Clare. I hoped that they would have made

up by the time we got home.

I had trouble keeping my mind on the sermon that morning. I rode home with Guthrie and Ford, letting them talk over me.

Ford was saying that he was thinking about heading back to college early that afternoon.

"Aren't you going to stay while Karissa's there?" I asked him, feeling upset.

"I'm stayin' for lunch," Ford said.

"Well, okay, but you're going to leave as soon as you eat?" I demanded. "Don't do that, Ford!"

Ford gave me a look of surprise at my outburst. "What's the big deal?" he asked me.

"I want you to stay, that's all!" I said.

"I will for a while. But I've got a lot of studying to do this afternoon when I get back-" he began to explain.

I slumped down in the seat, sandwiched between him and Guthrie, who was driving. "Maybe you should have done your studying last

night instead of staying out so late with Valerie!" I snapped.

Ford looked even more surprised. "I wasn't out so late," he denied. He frowned at me. "What's your problem, Har?"

"Nothing," I said, and crossed my arms.

Ford looked irritated, and spent the rest of the ride home looking out the window. In contrariness, I wished that he

would keep talking to me. I sulked the rest of the way home. Or, as I prefer to say, instead of sulked, I was pensive.

As soon as we pulled up the driveway at home, and Guthrie parked the truck, he got out, and gave me a nod towards Ford. His way, I knew,

of telling me to smooth things over with Ford.

I slid out of the seat after Ford, and caught at his arm.

"I'm sorry," I said.

Ford paused, looking at me. "Okay. But what's the deal?"

"I just want you to be around while Karissa's here. I'd just feel better if you were."

"Why?"

"I don't know. It's just the way I feel, alright? Why do you have to argue? Can't you just do it?" I demanded.

My tone had a sharp sound to it again, and Ford sighed, rolling his eyes heavenward.

"Wow. That apology didn't last long."

"Never mind," I said curtly, but with what I thought was dignity. "Forget I asked. Just go on back to school."

I turned to go into the house, and I heard Ford slam the truck door and then he called after me, "Don't try that prima donna

routine on me, Har!"

I resisted the urge to turn around and stick out my tongue at him. By now, everybody else was pulling into the driveway, coming from

church.

I went upstairs, and to my bedroom, changing from my church clothes to a pair of my better jeans, and a lacy yellow shirt. By the time

I got back downstairs, and went into the kitchen, Hannah was already there, bustling around, and stirring something in the crockpot.

"Do you need help with anything?" I asked.

"You can set the table," she said.

I went to the cabinet, and began taking down the plates.

"I have an idea," Hannah said. "Why don't we use the good dishes?"

I looked at her in surprise. "Really?"

"Sure. Why not? It'll be a nice change," Hannah said.

I had a pretty good idea what Brian, and even Adam would think of us using my mom's wedding china for what was supposed to be a casual lunch. They would think it was

unnecessary. That we were trying to impress Karissa, or something. Which, in a way, I guess would be right.

"Are you sure?" I asked her. "I don't think Brian-"

"Brian most likely won't even notice," Hannah said, waving away my concerns. "And, besides, I think your mother would be perfectly alright with us using her dishes to

entertain her sister. Don't you?"

I knew enough from reading my mom's journal that her relationship with Karissa had been virtually non-existent at times, and tenuous at best, but I also knew from what she'd

written, that she wished she could have been closer with her sister. So, yeah, Hannah was most likely correct in saying that my mom would have been fine with our decision.

I smiled at Hannah, and nodded, going to the high cabinet, pulling a chair over to climb up, and then opening it, and handing down the dishes to her.

"They're going to need a bit of washing," Hannah said.

"I'll do it," I volunteered.

"Okay. Go ahead and get down the glasses, too."

As I passed down the fancy etched glasses to Hannah, I thought back. I couldn't ever remember using the glasses. The dishes, I did remember using a couple of times, after Hannah

joined our family, and we had company or something. But the glasses. Never.

"Brian'll notice the glasses though, for sure," I told her.

Hannah shrugged. "I feel like living dangerously," she said, and then winked at me.

I smiled back at her.

By the time I'd washed and dried the dishes, Hannah had already set all the glasses around the table, and laid silverware on the cloth napkins. As I set the plates around, she

was lighting a candle in the center of the table. By the time we were finished, we both stood back to admire the table.

"It looks beautiful," I said.

"It does look good." She looked around the kitchen, and said, "Well, everything's ready, whenever she arrives."

"Thank you," I said, and she looked at me.

"For what?"

"For doing all this," I said, waving a hand around the kitchen. "For trying to make it nice."

"You're welcome."

"She really can be nice," I said, wanting Hannah to understand. "When she's not drinking, well, she's interesting and really-" I hesitated, searching for the right words. "Cultured," I said.

"I'm sure if you think she's nice, then she is." Hannah spoke matter-of-factly, and at that moment, I had never appreciated her more.

"I just hope the guys don't think this is like putting on airs or something," I said, with a glance toward the table.

Hannah laid a hand on my shoulder. "Listen to me," she said firmly. "There is nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing wrong in wanting to make a good impression. It does not

mean that we're pretending to be something that we're not, or anything like that. Got it?"

"Yes, ma'm," I said, and smiled at her.

We could hear everybody coming into the house, via the front door. We exchanged glances, and in silent agreement, went to head them off at the pass.

"When's lunch?" Evan asked.

"As soon as our company gets here," Hannah said.

There was a collective groan from almost everybody except for Crane and Adam. Comments and complaints about how hungry they were.

"You can survive a few more minutes," Hannah said, and went to sit down on the couch, patting the spot beside her. "Come sit by me, cowboy," she told Adam.

Clare came down the stairs then, seeming subdued. It looked as though she'd been crying.

"I'm sorry I didn't help with lunch," she said to Hannah.

"You needed the rest," Hannah told her. "It's fine."

Brian looked as though he was startled. "You were sleeping?" he asked her. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I wasn't sleeping," Clare told him, avoiding the hand he put out to her. "And I'm feeling fine."

Good grief, I thought. You needed a score card to keep up with all the moods going on around here. Myself included.

7

We were all mostly sitting around the living room, talking or reading the Sunday paper, when we heard a car pulling up. I'd been quiet while waiting. I hoped that Karissa hadn't

been drinking. I hoped she wouldn't be condescending to my family. And as far as my family went, well I hoped that they would all act like gentlemen. Though that was

probably asking too much.

7


	35. Clare Catch and return

I would have answered the door when Karissa came up the front porch steps, but Adam got up from his spot beside Hannah, and

went toward the door, reaching it just as she knocked.

"Hello, Adam," I heard her say.

"Come in," Adam said, and stepped aside so that Karissa could pass in front of him.

Karissa stepped in, and my first thought was that she looked, well, for lack of a better word, stunning. Simply stunning. She

was wearing a straight gray below-the-knee gray skirt, and light gray sweater, and a pair of stylishly high heels.

Hannah got to her feet, and stepped forward.

"Welcome to our home," she said.

"Thank you, Hannah," Karissa said.

I stepped closer too, and Karissa smiled at me. "Hello, darling," she said.

"Hi."

Karissa said hello to Guthrie, and then looked at Ford and Evan, who had also gotten to their feet.

"Evan," she said, and then turned to Ford. "And Ford. All grown up."

It was kind of a lame thing for her to say. I winced inwardly. But, giving them credit, both of them showed that

they'd been raised with manners.

Evan nodded, and said, "Hello, ma'm," while Ford said, "I guess there's no way to avoid it. Growing up, I mean." Then he looked embarrassed.

"I guess that's right," Karissa said, with a smile at him.

"Lunch is ready," Hannah said, and began to lead the way to the kitchen.

Karissa followed her, passing in front of Crane and Brian. She said hello to both of them and made some comment about the weather and how

warm it was for this time of the year.

Crane answered that comment, and then Brian put his arm around Clare's waist, and pulled her close to his side.

"This is my wife, Clare," Brian said, and I could hear the pride in his voice.

Karissa took in Clare's appearance, dressed in jeans and a pink shirt with fitted sleeves. Clare looked, as she nearly always does, as if she

could have stepped off the cover of a fashion magazine. Even in blue jeans, she's what my brothers call a "real looker".

"Hello," Clare said, with graciousness, and offered her hand to Karissa. I had to hand it to her. Though only a short while earlier she had been

in a "mood" and acting as though she was tired and fed-up, and irritated at Brian, well, those things didn't show now. She was quieter than normal, but friendly, and like I said, gracious.

"Hello, Clare," Karissa said. "My goodness, if you knew all I've heard about you."

There was something strange about Karissa's voice in that moment. At first I wasn't sure. I thought maybe it was me, hearing something that wasn't really

there. To me it had sounded as though Karissa was suggesting that I'd said something uncomplimentary about Clare. I felt my face flame in embarrassment.

One glance at Brian's face proved that he, too, had heard the innuendo. He was turning red from the neck up.

Clare, bless her, put a constraint on the situation lickity-split. She continued to shake Karissa's hand, and gave a laugh.

"Well, that's gooood," she said, drawing out the last word. "I know you heard all good things then, if it was Harlie that was doing the telling." And then

Clare turned to flash a smile at me. "Right, bestie?" she said.

"Right," I said in rapid gratefulness. "Only good."

"Because, after all," Clare went on, with a sassy finish, "there's only good to say about me." And with that, she took Brian by the hand, and

followed the group. This left me with Guthrie at the tail end of the pilgrimage to the kitchen.

"Whew," Guthrie said, blowing out a long breath. "Clare cut her down to size alright."

I shushed him, thinking he might be overheard. "Maybe she didn't mean it like it sounded-"

Guthrie rolled his eyes at me, just as Brian came back to the living room.

"Come on, you two," he said, sounded irritated.

As we walked over to where Brian was waiting, he said, in a low, low voice, "Table looks as though the President was comin'."

This was, I knew, his pointed reference to our mother's wedding china being on the table.

I shrugged. At the moment, I wasn't any too certain that going to all that trouble for the table had been the right thing, either.

As we went into the kitchen, everybody was sitting down and scooting their chairs up to the table. Hannah had placed Karissa between Crane

and Ford. A fact, I might add, which did not go unnoticed by me. Or Brian, either, from the raised eyebrow look he gave me.

I could feel Brian fairly simmering. Even though I was unsure about this whole dinner thing with Karissa, I didn't want Brian to go all ape-crazy. I didn't

think he would, not really. But still-

I sidled up to Brian before he sat down, and caught his hand, squeezing it. He looked down at me, and met my eyes, and then he smiled just

a little, and squeezed my hand back.

Then, he winked at me, just before turning to the table and saying, "The table looks beautiful. Just beautiful."

Hannah looked towards Brian and I, and her surprise at his words was showing, before she masked it.

"Thank you, Brian," she said.

I, in return, gave his shoulder a pat as I walked around him to get to my seat at the table.

7

Short chapter this time-but more coming soon! Get ready, things are gonna get rocky real quick!


	36. An opinion unchanged

After that somewhat questionable beginning, lunch progressed smoothly. Karissa was at her most charming. She showed the likeable, affable side

of herself that I had first met, and liked. I was glad for that. For the most part, Evan, and Ford and Guthrie too, were quiet, eating their roast and

potatoes.

Karissa talked mostly to Crane, and to Hannah, once in awhile addressing her comments to Adam at the other end of the table. Brian, too, was quieter

than usual, though when he was asked something, he answered. As we were finishing up the meal, I noticed that he and Clare were holding hands

under the table.

Crane got up to get the pie and cake that were setting on the cabinet, placing them in the center of the table. Karissa took a piece of the

offered apple pie, though I noticed that she didn't really eat much of it at all.

Karissa turned to Ford then. "You're still a quiet fellow," she observed. "You always were, even when you were small."

I felt a moment of unrest at Karissa mentioning that. It was too close to the painful subject of her having Ford in the car with her when

she ran thru the fence.

Ford's response was easy enough. "I guess I am, most of the time."

"Don't be fooled," Crane said. "He can talk the back legs off a donkey if he takes a mind to."

Karissa laughed.

As everybody began clearing their dishes from the table, Karissa got to her feet, and did the same.

"No dishwasher?" she asked, in a general way. "My goodness, I can't imagine how you manage this huge group without one."

"We manage," Hannah said, and then Crane offered into the awkward silence, "We've always thought it's good for the kids to help out

with dishes, and other chores."

Karissa nodded briefly.

I was on the dishwashing chart for this meal. I knew I was, But Hannah said quietly, "Harlie, why don't you take Karissa into the living room, or out on the

porch? That way you two can visit."

I hesitated, looking at Hannah. She nodded just a little. "Go on," she encouraged.

"Okay," I said, and as I was leading the way to the living room, I offered, "Do you want some coffee?"

"That would be wonderful, darling," Karissa responded, and I turned back to the kitchen as she walked on.

The kitchen was still full of McFaddens, though Evan and Ford had made their escape outside.

I poured a cup of coffee for Karissa, and then caught at Guthrie as he headed past me, towards the back door.

"Come with," I told him.

"No, thank you," he said, with a bit too much emphasis on the 'thank you' part. His way, I knew, of expressing his desire to have no

close contact with Karissa.

"Guthrie," I hissed, and I would have pinched him if he'd been close enough. But, wise to my ways, he had moved out of reach, and

gone out the door, a piece of pie in his hand.

Crane, watching and listening, asked me, "Want me to come in in a few minutes?"

I nodded at him gratefully.

I went into the living room, which seemed startingly quiet after the number of people in the kitchen.

I handed the cup of coffee to Karissa, and she thanked me as I sat down on the couch opposite her, tucking one leg under me.

"Tell me about things," she said. "What's been going on with you lately?"

"Nothing too exciting," I said. "School, mostly."

"Have you had any dates recently?"

I shrugged. "Not for a couple of weeks."

"Why is that? You're such a pretty girl. I'm sure you get asked out?"

"I do," I said, thinking of the week before when two boys from my history class had caught up with me in the school hallway and both had

asked me to the movies.

"But you don't go?"

"Sometimes I do. " I remembered then that I'd had this same conversation with Karissa already, another time.

"I'm just busy," I told her. "I have to keep my grades up, and then I have that college English class I'm taking.  
There's a lot of homework with that. And there's always stuff to do around here."

"Chores?"

"Well, yeah," I agreed.

"This is the stage of your life to be having a good time, though," Karissa pointed out. "Maybe if you weren't trying to take that extra

class, well then you'd have more time."

"I have to take the class," I pointed out. "I need to get a head start on my college hours."

"You're only a sophomore," Karissa said. "What's the urgency?"

"Becoming a veterinarian is going to be tough. I have to do the easier stuff now."

"I see," Karissa said, as if she was thinking. "Could you drop the class, though, if you wanted to? If it got to be too much

for you, I mean?"

Without thinking, I said, "No. Crane wouldn't let me."

"Why is that?" she asked, but before I could explain that Crane wouldn't want me to be a quitter, and explain our agreement about how

he would pay for the class as long as I carried at least a B average, Crane himself walked into the room.

"More coffee?" he asked Karissa.

"No. Thank you, Crane."

Once Crane had settled himself next to me, his long legs stretched out in front of him, Karissa regarded him with a smile.

"Harlie's been telling me about her English class that she's taking."

Crane nodded. "Hmmm," he said.

"It sounds very intense," Karissa said then.

"It's not that bad," I protested, but Karissa addressed herself to Crane as though I hadn't spoken at all.

"It seems a lot for a young girl," Karissa continued, her piercing gaze on Crane. "Perhaps too much?" she suggested.

"I don't think so," Crane answered easily. "Harlie can handle it."

He reached over and patted my knee. "Can't you, kiddo?" he added.

I nodded at him.

"You grew up with so much responsibility, at such a young age yourself," Karissa said. "It seems as though you'd want Harlie to have

a chance to spread her wings a bit, and be a little more carefree than you got to be."

I stared at Karissa in rising annoyance, ready to come to Crane's defense.

"I want Harlie to do whatever she feels she should do," Crane said. His voice was even, steady, not raised even a notch. But there was a set tone to it.

"But if it became too much for her?" Karissa asked.

"It's not!" I interrupted stoutly. "I like the class!"

"I always have an open ear for anything Harlie wants to talk to me about," Crane said. He gave Karissa a half-smile, and then turned

the conversation to the real estate business, effectively causing Karissa to talk about something else.

After a time, Adam and Hannah came into the living room, to sit down with us as well. The rest of the afternoon passed uneventfully.

Well, except for one minor, or possibly major, instance.

Without thinking beforehand, I brought up the next day's appointment that I had in Angel's Camp, at the Animal Control office, with Nathan, to

discuss the dog mill case.

Karissa was suitable impressed, and asked questions.

"What time was it again?" Adam asked me.

"Nine."

"I thought it was in the afternoon, after school," Crane said.

"No. He wants to do it in the morning," I said.

Too late, I saw both Adam and Crane's expressions, and wished that I'd held my tongue.

"I don't think you should miss school for that," Crane said.

"I can make it up," I protested.

"You might be over there for hours," he pointed out. "You can call in the morning and leave him a message that you'll be over

after school."

"I can't do that," I protested. "It's not like that. He's the one that gets to say when I'm supposed to come."

"I'm sure another time can be worked out," Adam said.

"There's nothing wrong with nine in the morning," I said dourly, and the room became quiet. Karissa appeared to be watching

the exchange with interest.

Crane spoke first, his voice firm. "Enough." That's all he said.

I felt my face warm in embarrassment. I wanted to say something sassy, like "Fine!" But I didn't. I sank back against

the back cushions of the couch, and didn't argue.

Later, as Karissa made her way down the front steps to her car in order to leave, she was charming once again, thanking Hannah for

the meal, and thanking Adam and Brian for letting her come. She almost seemed emotional as she thanked them.

Adam said, "You're welcome," as Brian only nodded.

"I'll call you soon," she told me, as she got into her car.

"Okay."

After she'd driven away, Hannah let out a sigh. "Well, I think it went well," she said.

"Lunch was good," I told her.

"Thanks, sweetie." She smiled at me, and then at Adam. "I think I'll go upstairs and take a nap."

When she'd gone, I turned to look at Adam and Brian.

"It wasn't as bad as you thought it would be, was it?" I asked them.

"No, it wasn't all that bad," Adam said. He ran a hand over my hair. "Think I'll put my feet up and take a nap, too," he said, and went into

the house.

Which left me with Brian.

I looked at him, searching his face. "Bri?" I asked.

Brian didn't pretend to misunderstand what I was getting at. "It had its moments, but I guess all in all, it wasn't bad."

There was something else in his voice, though. I could hear it.

"But?" I prodded him, knowing that he hadn't voiced his entire opinion.

"I still stick with my original opinion, peach."

"Which is what?" I persisted.

"Which is, that a leopard doesn't change its spots."

He said he was going inside then, to get another piece of pie. And I sat on the front steps for a long time, thinking.

7


	37. Basketball and Brothers

Not too long after Karissa had left, Guthrie came thru from the kitchen, cookies in his hands. Adam was stretched out on the couch, one arm over his

forehead, sleeping. Clare was sitting with her feet in Brian's lap, as he read the Sunday newspaper.

"Okay if I go play some basketball?" Guthrie inquired in a general way.

"Where at?" Brian asked.

"Over at the elementary," Guthrie told him.

"You got all your homework done?"

"Yep. Sure do."

"Go on," Brian said, waving a hand at him.

"Wanna go with?" Guthrie turned to look at me.

The thought of getting out in the sunshine, and away for a little while was hugely appealing. I nodded at Guthrie gratefully and got to

my feet.

"Okay, Bri?" I asked.

"Get going," Brian said, in answer.

So Guthrie and I headed into Murphys to the elementary school. For awhile it was just the two of us, and then Trent and Lori showed up. After that, more kids

began to stop, parking their cars and trucks, and joining in the game. We had enough to play Horse by now. One of the girls had some cold drinks in her car, and left the trunk lid up, so everybody could go grab a Coke from the cooler if they wanted.

I was opening a bottle of Coke when someone behind me said hello, startling me.

I turned around to see Kenny standing there, grinning at me, another boy with him. Well, technically, he wasn't a boy. I figured he was at least

Evan's age.

"Hi, Kenny," I said in greeting.

"Hey, Harlie." Kenny introduced the other guy as his cousin, Jake.

"Hi," I said.

"Hi, Harlie," Jake said in greeting.

The game continued, and another game was started at the other end of the basketball court.

As Kenny ambled away, I was left standing there with his cousin. I gave him a slight smile, not knowing what to say.

"You live around here?" he asked me.

"Uh huh." After a moment's hesitation, I said, "Where are you from?"

"I live in Stockton." He gave me a grin. "My little cousin's pretty gone over you."

That was embarrassing to me. I shrugged in answer.

"I can see why. You're real pretty," he added.

Now I felt my face turn red. "Thanks," I said, and after that, we both joined the game. More and more people stopped, until it seemed as though half

the town was either playing in one of the ongoing games, or sitting around and watching. I wasn't all that surprised to see Evan and Ford show up as well.

After awhile I sat down on Guthrie's tailgate, talking to Lori, and drinking another Coke.

Ford came over and half-sat down beside me.

"I'm heading back," he told me.

"Okay."

There was a moment of stilted silence, and Lori said, "I'll let you two talk," and jumped down.

"Should you be drinkin' that?" Ford asked, with a gesture toward the bottle of Coke in my hand.

"Nope. And guess what? This one is even better than the first one I had a little while ago. I may even have a third one."

"Whew," Ford said. "You still have a lousy attitude."

"I do not."

After a couple of minutes of silence, Ford gave me a dig in the ribs with his elbow.

"I'll see ya in a couple of weeks then, probably."

I nodded, and then I watched as he headed towards the street where his battered white truck was parked. I saw him give a wave to Guthrie, who stopped

playing long enough to sprint over to Ford, where they exchanged a quick conversation and some back-slapping.

As Ford was climbing into the truck, I realized that I'd never, ever, not said a proper goodbye to Ford whenever he headed back to college. I was

suddenly ashamed of myself, and hopped down from the tailgate, running towards his truck.

I yelled, "Ford!" as he began to pull away from the curb.

He braked to a stop, and I ran around to his open driver's window.

"What's wrong?" he asked me.

"Nothing," I said, a little out of breath from running. "I just wanted to say goodbye."

Ford gave me a brotherly look that suggested quite strongly that I was crazy.

"I know, I know," I said. "Don't say it."

Ford shook his head a little, and grinned at me.

"Sorry I've been a grouch to you," I said.

"It's okay."

"I'll see you," I said.

"Yep. See ya," As Ford pulled out onto the street, he leaned out the window enough to call back at me, "Don't drink any more Coke, though!"

I stuck my tongue out at him playfully, and watched until he'd driven out of sight.

7

Riding home later, sandwiched in the middle between Guthrie and Evan, I was quiet. It had been a long day, and I was tired.

I was busy with my own thoughts, so I was startled when Evan gave me a nudge.

"Huh?" he prompted.

"What?" I asked, looking at him.

"I said, who's the guy?"

"What guy?" I asked.

"The guy that was talkin' to you all afternoon."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said impatiently.

"That's Kenny's cousin," Guthrie volunteered into the conversation.

I looked from Guthrie back to Evan. "Oh, you mean that guy? Yeah, that's Kenny's cousin."

"So, is that the mystery guy?" Evan demanded.

"What?" I said, blinking a little. "What mystery guy?"

"The one you've met. The one you told me and Ford about."

Oh, that. I'd forgotten all about my little joke on Evan, where I'd deliberately tried to stir him up.

"No, silly," I said.

"So this isn't him?"

"No!"

"Why was this guy chatting you up all day, then?" Evan asked, sounding irritated.

"He wasn't," I denied.

"I saw him, Har."

Now that I thought about it, Kenny's cousin had sought me out a few times that afternoon, talking. I hadn't thought that much

about it. He'd just been being friendly, I thought. Maybe flirting a little bit. I hadn't found him all that appealing. He was too overbearing

for me.

"He barely said two words to me, Ev."

"Humpph," Evan said.

"He didn't talk to me anymore than he did to anyone else," I protested.

"He kind of did talk to you a lot, Har," Guthrie said, and I glared at him.

"Thanks a lot, Guth," I said sarcastically, and Guthrie flashed a grin at me.

"I don't know the guy at all," I said, "And I'm tired of talking about it, okay?"

"So if he's not the mystery guy, then who is?" Evan continued, relentlessly.

I twisted in the seat to face Evan. "There is no mystery guy," I said. "I made it all up."

"Why would you do that?" Evan asked.

"Because you made me mad, teasing me about Kenny. I was just trying to yank your chain."

Evan looked as though he didn't believe me. "Is that so?" he asked.

"Yes, that's so!"

"I don't know, Har," Evan said slowly. "It seems like you're protesting an awful lot for somethin' that's not true."

"I'm protesting because you won't shut up about it!"

"Yeah?" Evan asked, raising an eyebrow at me.

"Guthrie!" I hollered, and Guthrie flinched.

"What?" he asked, startled.

"Stop the truck," I told him.

"Huh?"

"Just stop!"

Guthrie pulled to the side of the road, and stopped the truck, looking at me, wide-eyed. "You sick?" he asked.

"Yes! Sick of Evan! Let me out!"

Guthrie got out and I hopped out after him.

"I'm walking the rest of the way," I told him, as he stood there staring at me.

"A mile or more?" he asked.

"Yes. Just go," I told him, and started walking, and I heard Evan laugh.

"You've made your point, Har," Evan said. "Get back in."

I walked on, ignoring him. It had gotten hot that afternoon, and I felt sweat pooling on my neck, under my curls, before I'd hardly begun

walking. The truck door slammed, and Guthrie began driving slowly, creeping along behind me.

I stopped in frustration. "Go ON!" I yelled.

Guthrie stopped, and Evan opened the passenger door, stepping out onto the running board.

"Come on, Har," he said.

I stood there, hot and sweaty, and fuming.

"I'll stop. Okay?" Evan said, and I could tell he was barely holding back his laughter.

I was still mute, glaring at him.

"I said I'll stop teasin' ya. Come on," he coaxed.

"Do you promise?" I asked.

"Yeah. I promise. Now get in."

I turned to survey the road in front of me, calculating how far it was to our driveway, and then adding in how hot it was, and how

thirsty I was. I weighed all that against my stubbornness. Thirst and heat won out. I stalked back to the truck, and Evan moved aside

so I could get back into the middle of the seat, then he got in, too, and slammed the door. And we were on our way.

7

I was so tired that I ate my sandwich, leftover roast from lunch, and then headed up to take a shower. I was in my room, getting ready to

climb into bed, when I heard voices in the hallway, and I remembered then, about the morning.

I went to open the door, waiting as Crane, Adam and Brian, paused there in the hallway, continued talking for a minute.

"Hey," Adam said, to me, as they all three looked at me questioningly.

"I was wondering about the morning," I said.

"It'll come. It always does," Brian said, with a grin.

"Funny," I told him. "I mean about talking to the animal control about the case."

"What about it?" Adam asked.

"I was thinking that I could go over there, and finish really quickly, and get right back to school," I began.

Brian, since he didn't know what we were talking about, didn't say anything. But Adam, and Crane, too, both looked

serious, really fast.

"Oh, you were thinkin' that, were you?" Adam asked, in a quiet voice, that didn't mask his irritation .

"Well, yeah," I said. "This is really important. And they probably need to get things finished up soon, and all-"

"Harlie, we told you earlier, we'll call in the morning after you head to school, and set up another time," Adam said.

"I know, but-" I commenced to argue.

"Subject is closed," Adam said, and he gave me a look I felt to my toes.

"Okay," I said, mildly enough, but I shut my door harder than was necessary.

7


	38. The landing is what gets you

The rest of the week passed slowly. By Thursday, I still hadn't gotten to go over to Angels Camp to the office of Animal Control. Crane

had said something about it being set up the following Monday afternoon after school.

A fact which irritated me to no end. But I kept my opinion to myself. Adam was short on temper most of the week, with Brian not far behind

him. They reminded me of a couple of bears who had somebody rattling their cages.

On Thursday evening, I was helping round up some stray calves. I've been doing that most of my life, so it's nothing new.

Therefore, when I saw two little white-faced calves down at the bottom of a steep hill, I didn't hesitate to go after them. I took Petra downhill on a

full run. I would have made it too, if it hadn't been for the washed-out slope at the very bottom.

Petra lost her footing, and we tumbled. She got to her feet quickly, shaking her head. I laid there on the ground, stunned, and the breath knocked

out of me. My head ached, and I swear I saw stars for a minute. I squeezed my eyes shut, and started taking inventory of my arms and legs.

I could move everything. My right hand had a sharp pain whenever I moved it, though. So I laid my hand on my stomach, taking some deep breaths.

I could hear yelling. Lots of yelling. And my name being called, over and over.

"Here!" I tried to call back. But the wind was coming up, and it seemed to carry my voice away.

"Harlie!" Crane's voice shouted out.

"Down here!" I tried again to call.

I don't know if he heard me, or if he saw Petra, standing there beside me, but he was down the hill on his horse, so fast that from the

angle at which I was laying on the ground, it looked as though he was flying, horse and all.

He was off before Duke even came to a full stop, and kneeling at my side.

With practiced hands, he began to check me over, feeling my legs, and my arms for breaks.

"Where are you hurt?" he asked.

"Just my hand," I said, and Crane lifted it gently. I winced, and he laid it down again.

"I'm okay," I said, in order to dispel that look of worry off his face. "I can sit up now."

I started to sit up, but Crane put a hand to my shoulder, and eased me back to the ground. "Just stay still," he said.

He got up, and went to Duke, pulling out the rifle carried alongside of the saddle.

Pointing it in the air, he fired it. Once. And then again. A signal, I knew, for everybody else, to know where to locate us.

Then he was back at my side, still checking me over. I winced when he moved my left foot.

"That hurt, too?" he asked.

"Yeah," I admitted.

Crane moved, and began to try to ease my boot off.

"Foot's already swelling," he said, and pulled a pocketknife from his pocket.

"Don't cut my boot, Crane," I pleaded.

"Better the boot than your foot," he said.

"Ha, ha, ha," I said weakly.

A moment later, and there were horses all over the top of the ridge, it seemed. And brothers scattering down the hillside.

"How bad?" Adam asked Crane, and I heard all the fear of the world in his voice.

"Her hand. And her ankle," Crane responded, as he began to saw away at my boot with his knife.

"Hey," I said, looking up into all their faces. "Can one of you guys tell him not to cut my boot up?"

None of them even bothered to answer that. Adam was doing his own investigation of injuries on me, his face furrowed in deep worry lines.

"I'm okay, Adam," I told him.

"Did you hit your head?" he asked me.

"I don't think so. I'm really okay-"

A horrible thought occurred to me, and I twisted my head, trying to see.

"Where's Petra?" I asked, panicked. "Can you see if she's alright?"

When none of them acted as though they heard me, I looked up at Evan. "Evan, please, will you check her?"

I kept twisting, trying to see, as Evan began running his hands over Petra, and down her legs.

"Stay still," Adam ordered gruffly. He sounded angry, and I peered up at him.

"Are you mad at me?" I asked him, in a small voice.

"You damn well know I am. What the hell were you thinking, taking that hill at that speed?" he snapped.

"I just wanted to get to the calves," I offered weakly, feeling frightened by the horrible look on his face, and wondering how he knew that I'd

taken the hill too fast.

"You know better," he said fiercely, and I wilted, tears welling up in my eyes.

"I can't believe you're hollering at me," I whimpered.

"I might do more than holler," he threatened, and my stomach clenched.

Brian got on one knee, on the other side of Crane. "Hospital?" he asked.

"I think so," Crane said. "Better have some x-rays. And make sure there's no concussion."

Brian stood up. "I'll ride back and let Hannah and Clare know what's goin' on. We can use Clare's car."

"It has a flat," Evan volunteered. "I told Clare I'd change it in the mornin'. Use my truck."

"Okay," Brian said, and stood up. "Come with me, Guth."

For the first time, I focused my gaze on Guthrie's face, his freckles standing out in fear and worry.

I tried to smile at him to ease his worry, but I don't think my smile really came off very well.

"Is Petra okay?" I asked Evan.

"She's got a couple of cuts, but she's fine," Evan said. "I'll take her home."

I watched as Brian and Guthrie left, and then Evan, leading Petra up the hill carefully.

"Try sitting up slowly," Crane told me, and they both put a hand behind my lower back, helping me to a sitting position .

I sat there for a minute, pushing back the pain radiating over almost every part of my body.

"Alright?" Crane asked me.

I wasn't going to admit how bruised and sore I felt right then, and give Adam more ammunition to fuel his anger.

"Fine," I said, and Crane chuckled a little.

"Ready to go dancing, huh?" he teased, and I was grateful for the moment of levity.

"Name the time and place," I muttered.

"Okay, up you go," Adam said, and between the two of them, they stood me on my feet.

I knew there was no way Duke could carry anybody up that hill, and I honestly didn't think I could manage climbing it on my own,

but I was determined to maintain my tough exterior.

"Who walks up first?" I asked, with bravado.

For a moment I thought I saw the flicker of a smile at the corner of Adam's mouth.

"Not you, baby girl," he said, hoisting me over his shoulder, in a fireman's hold. He started up the hill, Crane behind him, leading Duke.

At the top, he set me on my feet, or foot, rather, and swung up into the saddle. Crane lifted me up, and put me on the saddle in front of

Adam, as he shrugged out of his jacket, and laid it over the saddle horn. "Rest your hand right there," Adam said, placing my hand on the softness of the worn denim of his

rolled up jacket.

When we got back to the house, Hannah and Clare were waiting on the front porch, along with Brian. Before I could hardly get my thoughts

together, Adam had handed me off to Crane, who installed me in the middle seat of Evan's truck.

As Crane was reaching across me to fasten my seat belt, I said, "Are you coming with me?"

"Adam's gonna want to go. He's pretty worked up," Crane said.

"One reason that I want you to come along," I muttered.

"We'll see," Crane said, and there was a hurried conversation between all of them on the porch steps.

In a situation like this, a person is bound to have a preference on who they want with them. Adam's great at comforting, if it's a headache

or something like that. Something in other words, that you haven't caused to yourself by recklessness. In those cases, then Adam's not so good. He

gets real upset if one of us is hurt. And then he tends to yell.

If I'd had my 'dream team' of people to take me to the hospital, I'd have to say it would be Guthrie, and maybe Clare. Or Crane. Or even Brian.

Still, I knew that Adam going with me was a given. I could only hope that the person besides him, who rode 'shotgun' with us would be someone a little calmer.

Therefore, my mind was eased somewhat when Crane got in beside me, and Adam got behind the steering wheel to drive.

The ride began silent. There was still an hour or so of daylight left, but the sun was leaving the high point of the sky, and sinking to the side.

Besides my worry over Adam being mad, I was starting to be scared of how much damage I might have done to my hand. Or to my foot.

I flexed my foot and experimentally set it on the floor of the truck, and pressed down, trying to gauge from the pain if it was sprained.

"Quit," Crane ordered, obviously catching onto what I was doing.

"It doesn't hurt that much," I said, more to convince them both than myself. "Maybe it's just bruised a little, you think?"

"We'll find out when we get there," Crane said, non-committedly.

I risked a look at Adam, and his jaw was set in a hard line.

"Who's gonna get those two calves?" I asked, into the next moments of silence.

"That's not for you to worry about," Adam said curtly. He still sounded super mad. I would have liked to tell him something like

how he needed to work on his bedside manner, or something like that, but before I could, Crane wrapped an arm around my shoulder

and pulled me against his side. I was tired, and hurting, and it felt good to have him hug me that way, so I shut my mouth, pressing my lips

together so tightly that I probably looked as grim as Adam did.

7

At the hospital, Adam managed to find a spot to park that wasn't really far from the automatic entry doors.

Crane helped me get out, and then as he started to pick me up in order to carry me, I said, "I can do it."

Crane gave me a dubious look, but wrapped an arm around my waist, and started walking beside me. A couple of times I had to stop

to get my breath. It was darn hard, hopping like that. I could tell Adam was seething in impatience.

"Enough already," Adam said, and before I could protest, he swept me up, and carried me the rest of the way. At least, I thought,

it was the regular way to carry somebody, and not slung over his shoulder. That would have been so embarrassing.

Once inside, he set me back down, and Crane had me sit in one of those waiting room chairs.

Then Adam went to the front desk, and talked, and then started filling out paperwork. I sighed, and looked around, holding my hand close to my

stomach.

Finally, Adam came over and sank down in the chair beside me. He sighed heavily, and ran a hand over his face.

"Shouldn't be too long," Crane offered, sounding hopeful. "It's not that crowded."

"I asked how long," Adam said. "They've got a couple people in the back that are going to take awhile."

As if on cue, there was a screaming from the back that we could hear quite plainly. I winced.

"Wow," I said.

After another blood-curdling scream, I leaned forward, rubbing my good hand on my jeans nervously.

"I wonder what's going on," I said.

"Won't do any good to wonder about that," Adam said, still sounding terse.

We sat there for what seemed like forever. After awhile, Adam got up and went down the hall, where we could see him, depositing coins and

then talking on a pay phone there.

"Calling home?" I said, looking at Crane.

"Most likely." Crane got up and went to grab a couple of magazines from a nearby rack. He handed me one of them. A tattered copy of Seventeen.

I flipped thru it, the best as I was able to, with my good hand. Some of the clothes shown, I thought were sort of ridiculous looking. There was a couple of

skirts that I liked. I held it out to Crane.

"Would you like it if your girlfriend wore a skirt like that?" I asked him.

Crane gave the photo a brief glance, and went back to his own magazine.

"Well, would you?" I insisted.

"I guess that would depend," Crane said.

"Depend on what?" Now I was curious.

"Just depend," he said.

"A girl would need really, really nice legs to carry it off," I said.

"Hmmm," Crane said.

"Well, I like it," I said, still holding the magazine between our two chairs so we could both see it plainly.

"Liking it, and wearing it, are two completely different things," Crane said.

I knew what that meant. A girlfriend was one thing. A little sister was totally another.

"Oh, I don't know," I said, stretching out my leg, and teasing him a little. "I think I have pretty nice legs."

I saw Adam coming back towards us, still looking grim, and I snapped my leg back so quickly that I bumped my swollen ankle.

"Oww!" I said, and then muttered, "Bat shit!" under my breath.

Crane chuckled a little. "That's what you get," he said.

Adam sank back down in the chair he'd vacated.

"They get the calves all finished?" Crane asked him.

"Yeah," Adam said, sounding tired.

After that, I subsided into silence, giving up on looking at the magazine. I was starting to hurt more as time passed.

I sat up straighter in the chair, trying to stretch. Another scream from the back, and I jerked, startled, bumping my hand

against the side of the chair.

"Oww," I couldn't help saying, pressing my hand back to the safety of my lap, tears filling my eyes.

"It shouldn't be too much longer," Adam offered. He didn't sound quite so angry now, and I nodded my head.

"Try to keep your hand still," he told me.

"Could I maybe have a couple of Tylenol?" I asked, trying not to sound whiny.

"They're not going to give you anything until you've been seen by the doctor," Crane told me.

"That's stupid," I said, sourly.

Adam gave me a telling glance, and I looked away.

Finally, my name was called, and we got to go to the back to the examining rooms. Between Adam and Crane, each with an arm around me, I walked

there under my own steam.

After the nurse had taken all my vitals, and asked questions, and all of that, we sat and waited some more.

Then they came to take me for x-rays, and they made me ride in a wheelchair for that. When they brought me back to the room again,

both Crane and Adam stood up, looking anxious. I scrambled up onto the bed thing again, although it probably didn't look very graceful.

"The doctor will be in shortly," the x-ray technician said, and left.

"What they consider shortly," Adam muttered darkly.

Finally, the doctor came in. He was young. And extremely good-looking. I wasn't in so much pain that I couldn't appreciate his good

looks.

He started out by asking me about when I fell, if I'd hit my head, or if I'd lost consciousness.

"I might have bumped it a little," I admitted.

"I got to her a few minutes after it happened," Crane said. "She didn't lose consciousness, I don't think."

"No. I didn't," I affirmed.

The doctor felt around on my head, and my neck, and then asked me a bunch of questions, which Crane told me later were to determine

if I had a concussion. Then he pressed around on my ankle, which hurt a lot, but I tried not to show how much.

The doctor sat back a little, smiling at me. "Well, there's good news," he said, looking at Adam and Crane.

"No sign of concussion, and x-rays show no break of the ankle. It's a Level 1 sprain."

"What's that?" Adam asked.

"The ligaments are stretched, but not torn," the doctor explained. "If she ices it well for the next 48 hours, and keeps it elevated, it will be fine."

"Can she put weight on it at all?" Crane asked.

"She should be able to by the time the weekend rolls around. We can get her some crutches if necessary."

Adam looked relieved. "Okay. That is good news."

"Well, not entirely," the doctor said. "There is a small fracture in the wrist."

"Oh, boy," Adam said.

"It's not a bad break. We'll cast it, and it should be all healed up in a few weeks."

A cast! And on the hand I used for writing! I felt overwhelmed suddenly, and tearful again.

The doctor noticed, because he smiled at me kindly. "I promise you, you're going to be fine, young lady."

"Thanks," I mumbled, feeling anything but grateful at that moment.

He patted my knee, and the expression of kindness was almost my undoing. What with Adam still looking so grim, and knowing the

lectures I was in for, not to mention the fact that I didn't know how I was going to manage homework, with my hand being in a cast.

"I'll give you a prescription for some stronger pain medicine, in case you need it, and my nurse will be in to put the cast on." The doctor

shook hands with both Adam and Crane, and told them if there were any problems to follow up with our family doctor.

We waited for the nurse, the room silent. An oppressive silence.

"No school for you tomorrow," Crane said. "Not with having to keep that ankle iced."

"I'm going to get so far behind," I said.

"One day won't put you that much behind," Crane said. "Guthrie can bring your work home."

"It's not just tomorrow," I said. I held up my aching hand. "How am I going to write with my hand in a cast?"

"Maybe if you wouldn't ride as though you think you're Helen Gibson, then you wouldn't be sitting here," Adam said darkly, mentioning a cowgirl trick rider from many years

ago, who I'd been fascinated with from the age of nine onwards.

I could not, absolutely could not, believe how mean he was being! I knew I'd done the wrong thing, taking Petra down that hill so

carelessly, and so fast, but still, I thought Adam could be a lot nicer about it.

"I don't think I'm Helen Gibson," I said sullenly. "If I was as good as Helen Gibson, then I definitely would NOT be sitting here. She wouldn't

have made such a stupid decision."

If I'd thought that by admitting I'd been dumb with Petra, that Adam would loosen up, and not be so grim, I was mistaken. His expression

didn't lighten at all.

"Humph," was all he had to say.

"You act like I got hurt on purpose or something, just to be an inconvenience," someone said. Wait. It was me. I'd said that. And I'd said it in that sullen, accusing tone.

Adam turned to face me, full-on, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. The expression on his face was beyond describing.

"What did you say?" he asked, and I clamped my lips shut. That was one of those questions that an adult asks you, where they already know

the answer. They're just asking the question to see if you're stupid enough to repeat the comment. I wasn't that stupid. I'd realized my

mistake as soon as the words left my mouth.

"Nothing," I muttered, looking away from his fierce gaze.

"Harlie Marie, I swear to God, you are makin' my palm itch," Adam threatened.

Well, this was rapidly going from bad to worse. I swallowed past the lump in my throat.

"I'm sorry," I said, still not looking at him.

"Well, you watch your mouth, hear me?"

"Yes, sir," I said, studying my foot that was still wearing a boot.

When the nurse came in, carrying the tray of supplies, she rapidly got to work, dipping the wrapping and putting it around my thumb and

arm, leaving only the tips of my fingers exposed. The cast got hard surprisingly fast, and we were sent on our way, with discharge instructions

and a prescription for pain medicine. In the truck cab, in the darkness, driving home, I was quiet. Crane and Adam talked, about calves,

and a car accident that had happened in Angels Camp, stuff like that.

They had switched places, where Crane was the one driving, and Adam sat next to the passenger window. I tried valiantly to stay

upright, but the nurse had given me a pain pill before we left, and I was really drowsy. I jerked awake to find that I had drifted closer to

Adam's side, with my head resting against him, and his arm around my shoulders. I debated about sitting up, seeing as how he was so mad at

me. He probably didn't really want me leaning all over him that way. I moved a little, and he said quietly, "We'll be home in a few minutes. Just

relax."

He didn't sound angry.

"Okay," I said, sleepily, laying my head back on his arm.

"How's the pain?" he asked me.

"Better. Those pills must really pack a punch," I said, and I thought I heard the rumble of a chuckle in his chest.

"No doubt."

7


	39. Mudroom quick change

At home, Adam woke me up, saying, "We're home."

I roused enough to get out of the truck with his help. "Want carried, or do you wanna walk?" he asked me.

"I'll walk," I said. I knew Hannah would be waiting up, and the sight of me being carried in was sure to rev up her worry.

The porch light burst into brightness as it was snapped on, and the front door opened, with everybody coming out.

Guthrie was at my side in a flash. "Hey," he greeted me.

"Hey, Guth."

"Wow. A cast," he said.

"Oh, my," Hannah said, with a deep breath.

"The ankle's a sprain," Adam forestalled her questions. "Ice and some rest. There's a small fracture in her wrist."

"I'm fine, Hannah," I told her, mostly from habit. Guthrie and I have always tried to keep Hannah from worrying.

"Oh, yes, you're just dandy," Hannah responded dryly.

"You just wanted to give everybody a good scare, didn't you, peach?" Brian joked lightly, from his spot at my side.

"No. I'm sorry," I said, feeling as though I wanted to cry again.

"I'm just teasin' ya, peach," Brian said, close to my ear.

I nodded, weary to the bone.

Once inside, Guthrie went to sweep the couch clean of jackets and newspapers, so there would be room for me to sit. "Here ya go," he said.

"She's pretty tired," Adam said. "You wanna go on up to bed?" he asked me.

"I'll sit down here for a little while," I said.

"How about some hot chocolate?" Brian offered.

I nodded at him. "Sure."

Clare had gone to get a bag of ice, which she had crushed up and put in a sandwich baggie.

"Sit down here," she told me, and I eased to the couch, where she stretched my ankle out, propped on pillows, and laid the ice on

top.

Clare was asking Crane what pain medicine they had prescribed for me, and I just sort of let the conversation roll around me, until Brian

brought me a cup of hot chocolate.

I sipped at it, listening as my brothers and Hannah, too, started reminiscing about their injuries over the years. Sprains, and broken bones,

and trips to the emergency room.

When I was finished with my cocoa, Hannah took the cup from me.

"Time for you to get to bed," she said.

"Okay," I said.

"I know you're a tough cowgirl, and all of that," Brian said, as he leaned down closer to me. "But how about a lift upstairs? Just for

tonight?"

I nodded gratefully, and he scooped me up, taking me up to my room. Hannah and Clare followed along, and between the three of us,

I got my jeans off, and my shirt unbuttoned, and into my pajamas.

There was a knock, and Hannah said, "Come on in," as I sat down on the bed.

Adam opened the door and stood there in the doorway. Even in my own fatigued and woozy state of mind, I noticed how tired

he looked. When Clare had said goodnight and gone out, Hannah gave me a kiss on the top of my head.

"Sleep well, sweetie," she said.

"Thanks, Hannah."

Adam came over to where I was perched on the side of the bed.

He pulled back the quilt and sheets. "Get in there, Hop-a-Long Cassidy," he said.

I swung my legs up and crawled under the blankets. Adam went to switch off the lamp, and then came back to pull the quilt

up tighter around me.

"Need anything else?" he asked.

The light from the hallway shone into my room, and I could make out his face, just a little.

"I know this is going to be another bill now," I said, "with the hospital, and everything-. I'm sorry, Adam."

I heard him sigh. "Contrary to what you accused me of earlier, I do not think you got hurt on purpose. Things

happen. I was worried, that's all."

"I'm sorry I said that to you," I apologized.

"It's okay. Get some sleep."

"Okay. Goodnight."

"Night."

7

The next morning, when I woke up, I could tell it was still early, because there was noise from the hallway of people

getting ready for the day. I got up, tentatively putting weight on my ankle. I hobbled to the door and went out into the

hallway, going down to the bathroom, as Evan was approaching from the opposite direction.

"Hey. Morning," he greeted me.

"Hey." I waved a hand at him.

When I came out of the bathroom, he was still there, standing by the head of the stairs.

"How are you feelin'?" he asked.

"Not too bad," I said.

We stood there for a couple of moments, both of us quiet. I could tell he had something he wanted to say.

"Is it Petra?" I asked, getting worried.

"Petra's okay. She's cut up a little, like I told you yesterday. You can come out later and help doctor her up," Evan said.

"Okay."

He still looked serious, and as though he was contemplating something.

"What, Ev?" I finally asked.

"It was dumb, what you did. You hurt yourself, but you're just lucky that Petra didn't break a leg."

I felt my face get all warm.

"I know it was dumb," I said.

"I mean, how would you have felt?" Evan went on. "If we'd had to put Petra down, because of a decision that you

made?"

"I would have felt awful! It would have broken my heart!" I managed.

Evan's face softened a little. "I know. Just think next time, okay?"

I nodded, and turned away from him.

"Want a piggyback down to breakfast?" he offered.

"No," I said, not meeting his eyes.

"So now you're mad? Just because I told you somethin'?" he asked.

"I didn't need you to tell me any of that," I said crossly.

Brian, coming down from he and Clare's attic rooms, came down the hall and stopped beside us.

"What's up?" he asked both of us.

"Harlie's in a snit because she didn't like hearin' the truth," Evan said, sounding disgusted.

"I'm not in a snit! Why don't you go to breakfast, and stuff your face with pancakes, or something!" I hurled at him,

and went quickly into my room, slamming the door behind me.

Almost immediately, the door opened again. Brian stood there for a moment, and then stepped into the room, closing the

door behind him.

I looked at his face, serious, and frowning, his eyebrows raised a little.

"He makes me so mad!" I said.

"I figure that he feels the same about you, so it's more than likely about equal."

"There's no way that I can irritate him as much as he does me!" I said hotly.

"Debatable," Brian said. "Was this about your horse?"

"Yes!"

"Maybe the reason you're so mad is because you know Evan's right."

I sat down on my bed. "Figures," I said.

"What figures?"

I had my mouth open to say the words, and then I just couldn't. Sparring with Brian is like sticking your arm

thru the bars of a hungry tiger's cage.

"Nothing," I shrugged.

"Oh, it's somethin'," Brian said. "I'm guessin' you were goin' to say a word or two about how I'm taking Evan's side,

or something similar to that. Right?"

"I was," I admitted, and then tried to smile at him a little. "But I decided I want to live awhile longer."

"Uh huh," Brian said, not looking amused.

After a moment of silence, he said, "Since when is slamming a door like that considered acceptable?"

"It's not acceptable," I said.

I'd only been up out of bed a few minutes, and here I was, on the bad side of two brothers already.

"That's your free pass," Brian said. "Next time you slam it like that, I'll take it off the hinges, and put it in the barn, and you

won't have a door for awhile. Understand?"

I nodded. "I understand."

"Okay. Let's get to breakfast."

7

After breakfast, Guthrie headed off to school, and everybody else scattered to their various plans and chores for the day.

Clare had a shift at the hospital, and so she left soon after, borrowing Hannah's little Gremlin, since the flat on her car hadn't been

changed.

That left Hannah and I in the house. I offered to do up the dishes, but Hannah said no.

"You need to get off your foot, and get the ice on it," she said.

"I can stand long enough to do the dishes," I insisted.

"Harlie," Hannah said, stopping to give me a look. "The whole reason you're home today is to rest and ice that foot. Remember? Thank you for

the offer, but just scoot, will you?"

"Okay."

As I headed to the living room, carrying a bag of ice in my left hand, Hannah called after me.

"I'm going to be downstairs, doing laundry. I'll check on you after a bit, alright?"

"Okay. I can watch Isaac, though, if you want."

"Well, okay. That would be a big help," Hannah said. "I'll go get him."

I went to the living room, and spread out a blanket on the floor, laying out some toys for Isaac.

I sat down on the floor, my back against the couch, and stretching my foot out, plopping the ice on it.

Hannah brought Isaac down the stairs, and settled him onto the blanket on his tummy, where he could see the toys.

"Here's some diapers," Hannah said, laying them on the end of the couch, along with some wipes. "I'll be back up after I do a couple of

loads, alright?"

"We'll be fine," I assured her.

I spent the next while enjoying Isaac, and smiling at the way he reached for the toys.

When the phone began to ring, I got to my feet, and hobbled over to answer it.

My 'Hello' was answered by a surprised voice.

"Harlie? Sweetheart?" Karissa's voice came across the telephone wire.

"Hi."

"Hello! I'm surprised to hear your voice. I thought you'd be in school. I was expecting Hannah to answer the phone."

"Yeah. I'm home today."

"Are you ill?" she asked.

"No. Just a little accident."

"You were in an accident?" she asked then, her voice rising in concern.

"No, not really. It was just a-mishap, really."

"Enough to keep you at home, though?"

"Uh huh."

"Well," she said, her voice brightening. "Since you're home, and it's just you and Hannah there at the house, perhaps I could

come over to visit you."

I understood very well what she was getting at. She was pleased because there would be no brothers to deal with.

Still, I didn't mind if she came over to see me. I was thinking that without any brotherly moods on the premises, it might actually be

a pleasant visit.

I wondered if I should ask Hannah first, but then I thought that she wouldn't mind.

"Okay," I agreed. "I'll see you after a bit, then."

"Absolutely. Is there anything you'd like from the store?" she asked.

"No, thank you," I said.

When I'd hung up, I looked at Isaac, who was still happy on the blanket, making his little cooing noises. I went thru to the kitchen,

and opened the door to the basement.

"Hannah?" I called down.

She appeared at the bottom of the stairs. "What? Everything ok?"

"Yes. Fine. Karissa just called."

"She did?"

"Yeah. She's going to come over for a while."

Hannah's face said it all. "Oh, Harlie," she said. "The house is a mess. And I have so much to do today-"

"She won't stay long," I said. "And the house looks okay."

Hannah ran a hand thru her hair. "Look at me," she said, gesturing at her frayed jeans and blouse flecked with baby food. "I'm not

dressed for company."

"You look beautiful."

Hannah sighed. "Start some coffee," she said. "I'll be up in a couple of minutes."

I went to do as she asked, and then went back to the living room, and started picking up some of the scattered mess of

papers, and jackets. I laid the papers on the desk, and threw the jackets at the bottom of the stairs.

I had lifted Isaac to the couch, and was changing his diaper, when Hannah came down from upstairs. She'd changed her shirt,

and was running a brush thru her hair.

"Hard to do with only one hand, isn't it?" she asked me.

"Kind of," I said, and she said, "Let me take over."

Isaac was changed, and the living room was tidied. Hannah went off to the kitchen, bringing back a plate with macaroon cookies

on it, and some coffee cups.

"I'll put Isaac down for a nap, and then try to get the dishes done up," she said, surveying the tidy living room.

"Okay. What do you want me to do?" I asked her.

Hannah gave me a big-sisterly look. "I want you on the couch, with ice on your ankle, that's what I want you to do."

"Yes, ma'm," I said, trying a smile on her.

I was reading, my foot propped up, when I heard the dogs barking. I got up and went to the door, opening it, as Karissa

parked, and got out, and then pausing to reach into the back seat of her car.

She walked up the front steps with one arm full of packages, and the other arm carrying a sack.

"Hello, sweetheart!" she greeted me.

"Hello," I said, and held the door open for her to enter.

She stopped, mid-walk, to stare at my cast.

"What in the world?" she exclaimed. "You're really hurt!"

"It's not bad," I said, and stepped back so she could pass by.

She noticed my hobbling right off, as well. "Dear Lord, what happened?" she asked. She looked really upset.

"I just took a spill from my horse," I said.

Hannah came back from the kitchen, carrying a coffee pot. They said hello to each other.

"I brought some things for lunch," she said, handing the sack off to Hannah.

"Oh. Well, that's very nice. You didn't need to," Hannah said.

"I wanted to. And these are for you," she said, holding out the packages towards me.

"Here, I'll set them here," she said, laying the packages on the coffee table. She began to take off her coat.

"I'll hang that up," Hannah said, taking it from her. Behind her back, Hannah gestured towards the packages and

raised her eyebrows. I shrugged back at her, in an indication that I didn't know what to think about the packages, either.

"Everyone's out working, I assume?" Karissa asked.

"Yes. Out and about somewhere," Hannah said.

"Well," Karissa said, sounding positively giddy, "it will be nice. Just us females."

"I'll go put these things away," Hannah said, and took the sack to the kitchen.

"Tell me about this-mishap-with your horse," Karissa said, and I sat down on the couch.

She sat down as well, and I recanted the previous evening's adventures.

When Hannah came back, she poured a cup of coffee for Karissa and one for herself.

"That's just terrible," Karissa said, taking a sip.

At Hannah's quick look of surprise, Karissa said, "No, no. The coffee is fine. I meant that it's terrible that Harlie was hurt so badly."

I thought I saw something pass over Hannah's face, and I knew that Karissa had made her feel less, as though she didn't

take proper care of me.

"It was my own fault," I said quickly.

"It's very responsible of you to take that attitude," Karissa said.

"What I did wasn't responsible," I said.

"But should you have been sent on such an errand?" she continued. "To get the calves, by yourself?"

"I made that choice," I insisted.

There was a stilted moment or two of silence. I could see that Hannah felt uncomfortable.

"This is a ranch. Things happen," I said.

Karissa did a complete change-around.

"Of course that's right," she said, sliding back into a charming mode. "Living in the city, a person forgets about certain things."

After that, she urged me to open the packages.

I looked at Hannah, unsure of what to do. She nodded slightly, and so I opened the first flat box.

It was another sweater, pale green, and a skirt, similar to the one in Seventeen magazine that I had shown to Crane at the hospital.

Karissa beamed at me, obviously waiting for me to exclaim over the outfit. And I liked it. I did.

"It's beautiful," I said.

"You like it?"

"It's pretty," I said, risking a look at Hannah, who appeared startled. I knew she recognized the expense of the clothing. And also, likely, the fact that

the skirt was extremely short.

Karissa pushed the other package into my hands. This one was taped closed so tightly that Karissa laughed, and said,

"Let me help you. Hard to do with that cast on."

This package had a pair of boots, and they were nice ones, too. They were a good quality brand. Tony Lama. They were brown, with

green on the sides. And round-toed, like I prefer.

I was actually stunned.

"You can't really try them on, with your sprained ankle," she said. "But maybe you could try on the sweater and skirt, to show me?"

I looked toward Hannah, unsure of what to do. I wanted to try on the outfit, but yet I knew this was going to be a huge bone of

contention with my brothers. Both the fact that she'd bought me more expensive clothes, and also the fact that there wasn't a one of them

that would approve of that skirt.

"Karissa," Hannah said, her voice quiet, but warm, "it's very kind of you to want to do this for Harlie, but it's not necessary."

"I enjoy it," Karissa said. "And she deserves a gift or two for having her arm in a cast, don't you think?"

"I don't think Adam will feel that way about it," Hannah said, still quietly.

Karissa gave a look of surprise at Hannah.

"He'll object to a couple of presents?" Karissa asked.

"It's not the presents so much as it is, the expensiveness of them," Hannah said. "And with it not being Christmas or her birthday, well,

I just think he might not approve."

"I see," Karissa said.

I felt so awkward right then. At first, I'd been grateful for Hannah's help, but now, well, I felt bad for Karissa. She looked so

dejected.

"Maybe I could try it on," I suggested, and Hannah turned to me with a shocked expression.

"I mean, just to show her," I tried to explain.

"Harlie, I don't think-" Hannah began.

"That would be lovely," Karissa said. She smiled at me, and then at Hannah. "That way, at least when it is Harlie's birthday, I'll know

if I got the right size and what-not."

"Can I, Hannah?" I asked. It was the only way to please everyone that I could think of. I'd try on the outfit, and that would make Karissa

happy, then I'd box it back up and send it with her, which was what Hannah and my brothers would want.

I could see Hannah was disconcerted, and unsure of what to do.

"I suppose so," she said. I could hear the uncertainty in her voice.

I took the skirt and sweater, and limped into the kitchen, and then thru to the mudroom. Instead of hopping upstairs, I shut the

door to the mudroom, and changed from my pajamas into the outfit. I didn't need a mirror to know that both the sweater and the skirt

fit like a glove, and holy moly, that skirt was sure short! Thru the door, I heard sounds from the kitchen, like rummaging thru drawers and the banging of cabinets.

I opened the mudroom door a crack, as I finished pulling the sweater down.

"It fits really good, Hannah," I said, thru the crack.

I pushed the door open and stepped out, saying, "What do you think of it? Pretty snazzy, huh?"

The kitchen, full of A, B. and C brothers McFadden, all staring at me, made me speechless in surprise. They also, all three of them,

were speechless, looking at me with surprise and shock. Adam's face darkened, and Crane looked stunned.

Brian had the look of a thundercloud.

He, with iced tea glass in hand, moved to step behind, looking at me from the back. I felt my face redden. When he was back in front, standing

beside Adam and Crane, he said, "I'm one hundred percent positive that you know exactly what we think."

Adam set his own tea glass down on the counter with a bang. I thought it was good that it was a plastic cup, or it would have broken.

"Snazzy isn't quite the word I'd choose for that outfit," he said.

7


	40. Steamrolled

"I thought it was Hannah out here," I said, without thinking it thru.

Wrong thing to say.

"Hannah knows about this?" Adam asked, his voice raising.

"No! Well, not exactly-" I said lamely.

"Why don't you share with us why you're dressed like a-" Brian hesitated, "Like that?"

"I was just trying it on-"

Adam went to the bottom of the stairs, and hollered down, "Hannah!" at the top of his lungs.

"She's not down there-"

"Where is she then?" Adam demanded, before bellowing up the stairs, "Hannah!"

"I'm right here," Hannah said, coming into the kitchen from the living room, and pulling the door shut behind her. "What are you

yelling about?"

Adam gave a sweeping gesture towards me. "Harlie says you know about this."

Now, I'd done it. Adam was mad at Hannah, too.

"I didn't say that!" I protested.

"I know about it, yes," Hannah said, still mildly enough, as if I hadn't spoken at all.

"What in the hell, girl," Adam said, loudly enough that he could be overheard in the living room.

"First of all," Hannah said, "there's no need for you to get so upset. Harlie's not going to keep the outfit."

"You're damn straight she's not gonna keep it," Adam said.

"Adam-" I began.

"You, hush," he said, pointing a finger at me.

"Secondly," Hannah continued on, her eyes snapping in temper, "Lower your voice. You're acting like a fool."

"A fool, huh?" Adam growled.

"Everybody cool it," Crane spoke up.

"You can be heard in the next county," Hannah said. "Crane, will you take some more coffee into the living room, please?" She gave

Adam a pointed look. "Since you seem to be the only level-headed one here right now."

Adam glowered at her. "Hannah-"

"Why do we need coffee in the living room?" Crane asked.

"Because our guest might like some more," Hannah answered Crane, though she looked at Adam.

"Guest? What guest?" Brian asked.

"Karissa has come to visit," Hannah said.

"Oh, boy," Brian said, in disgust.

"Well, that explains a lot," Adam said, his hands on his hips. "I assume that's where this 'snazzy' little outfit came from?" The way he mocked

the word 'snazzy' spoke volumes of his opinion of the outfit.

"Yes, that's right," Hannah said.

I hadn't seen Hannah and Adam have a go-around for a long time. And this one looked as though it could wind up to be a

rough one. My heart was pounding. I hate it when they fight.

"I was just trying it on-" I began again, determined to stop things from escalating.

"I think I told you to hush," Adam snapped.

"Go change out of it," Crane told me, giving me a little push toward the mudroom.

I went into the mudroom, stripping off the offending skirt and sweater. My casted hand caught on the sweater as I pulled it over my

head. "Bat shit," I muttered.

I yanked on my pajama bottoms, and then shoved my arms into the top. Unbuttoning was one thing. Buttoning back up was a lot harder. I buttoned

a couple of the top buttons, and came back out into the kitchen, struggling with the other ones.

Hannah was still talking.

"Karissa is well aware that Harlie isn't keeping the clothes. Or the boots."

"Boots, too?" Adam demanded.

"Yes. Boots. We've already discussed it with her. Harlie was only trying the clothes on because it meant so much to Karissa."

"Even though she's not gonna keep them?" Adam asked, incredulously, as though that was the stupidest thing he'd ever heard

in his life.

"Yes. That's exactly right," Hannah snapped.

"This isn't Hannah's fault," I said, stoutly. "She didn't want me to try the clothes on-"

Adam turned on me in fury. "She told you no? And you did it anyway?"

Oh, boy. I took a step back.

"I didn't tell her no," Hannah said. "And I think we've talked this pretty much into the ground. Harlie, pick up the sweater and skirt,

and go put them back into the box. Tell Karissa we'll be right along behind you."

"Yes, ma'm," I said, scooping up the sweater and skirt, and half-walking, half-hopping, went back to the living room.

Karissa was still sitting in the same exact spot on the couch, a cup of coffee in her hands. To me she looked mostly curious

as she asked, "Is everything alright?"

"Fine," I said, "or it will be."

I sat down on the couch, and laid the clothing back on top of the box it had come in.

"I tried them on," I said. "Then-"

"Yes," Karissa said dryly. "I heard."

"Oh," I said, embarrassed. "Well, I guess none of the guys are very up on what's in fashion." I meant it as a joke, but Karissa

nodded.

"It seems that way."

After a couple of moments, she added, "It's really a shame. That you can't dress as other young women do. Just because you live

in ranch country shouldn't mean that you have to forgo all-"

I heard steps approaching, so I cut her off in mid-sentence. "Really, it's ok. Not too many girls around here wear those sort of clothes, anyway."

Hannah led the way into the living room, Crane and Adam behind her. Brian had obviously decided to abdicate.

I could tell Adam was still ticked off, but he was calm enough, on the surface, anyway.

"Karissa," he said, with a nod of his head.

"Hello, Adam. And Crane. How are you both today?"  
"Doing well," Crane said.

"And you, Adam?" she asked, turning to look up at him.

"The day's early yet," Adam said. "Things are bound to start looking up."

I winced. He might as well have declared open warfare.

I watched as the two of them faced off. I hadn't realized I was holding my breath, waiting for an explosion, until Karissa did

one of her about-faces. and smiled disarmingly at Adam.

"I guess I've muddled things again," she said. "Shopping is one of my vices, I'm afraid."

Adam didn't reply, and Karissa talked on. "I see so many things that I'd like to buy for Harlie-Perhaps I lack good judgement."

I could tell by the way that she said that last part that she thought Adam would refute the fact that she had poor judgement.

He didn't.

Instead, he said quietly, "Perhaps."

High color rose in Karissa's face. I knew she was shocked by the fact that her charm didn't work on Adam.

After a moment of stilted silence, Adam said, "Well, we'd best get back to work. You ready, Crane?"

"Ready," Crane said.

Adam showed no poor manners when he told Karissa goodbye. He was civil enough. Karissa answered with her own goodbye

but I saw the ice in her eyes.

When they'd gone, the three of us sat there for a long quiet moment again.

"I think I'll let you and Harlie visit," Hannah said, getting to her feet. "I've got some housework to finish."

Karissa nodded, and then said, "I could take Harlie out to lunch. Perhaps to Angels Camp?"

I remembered, and I knew she did, too, that when Adam and Brian agreed to me visiting with Karissa, that the visits were only to be

at our house.

Hannah spoke quietly, "I don't think so. Not today, anyway. Harlie really needs to get the ice back on her ankle, and try not to walk on it."

"Of course, that's right," Karissa said.

After Hannah had gone back towards the kitchen, Karissa looked at me, her face sad.

"It seems that Adam and I will never reach a point where we're friends."

I'm not claiming to be the smartest teenager, but I'm not completely without some savvy, either.

"Do you want to be friends with him?" I asked her directly. "Because it doesn't really seem as though you do."

Karissa was surprised, and then she gave a slight shrug, looking sheepish. "Well. Maybe friends is the wrong choice of words. If we could be at least

civil to one another, I think it would make the future easier for all of us."

"He was civil when you came to lunch last week," I defended. "And when he and Brian met up with you awhile back, to talk things over,

he was civil then, wasn't he?"

"He was," she agreed.

"Adam doesn't like to be pushed," I told her. "Neither does Brian."

"I've learned that much," Karissa said, dryly. "It's just, that with my plans for the future, it's hard to be patient."

I readjusted the ice on my ankle. "What are your plans?" I asked, thinking she was talking about herself.

"Oh, so many things," Karissa said, looking enthused again. "Traveling, museums, all of those things."

"Where are you planning to travel to?" I asked.

"Well, I'm open to anyplace. So that will depend on you."

"Why would it depend on me?" I asked, puzzled.

Karissa gave me a smile. "Because, sweetheart, I plan on traveling with you. So, it will be the locations that interest you, the places you

want to go."

I was so startled that I just stared at her for a moment.

"You want me to travel with you?" I asked.

"Of course. Isn't that something you would like?"

"I'd like to travel, I guess," I said. "Sometime. In the future."

"The time to travel is when you're young, Harlie. That's the very best time to visit Europe."

Europe? Now I was past surprised. I thought she'd been talking about visiting nearby states, or something.

"Europe?" I asked breathlessly. To me, Europe has always seemed someplace vague, not really attainable, way out of the

realm of everyday life.

"I see your eyes all lit up," Karissa said. "So Europe does interest you, doesn't it?"

"Well, yeah, I think I'd like that. Someday."

"Someday is soon, Harlie," she said, and I felt a sense of foreboding washing over me.

"Well, I couldn't go now," I said. "And after I graduate, I've got to start thinking about college, and veterinary school."

"Why?' she asked abruptly.

I looked at her, confused. "Why, what?"

"Why do you have to go to college right away? You could take a year or so off to travel."

"If I do that, it will just be that much longer until I finish," I pointed out. "Veterinary school is tough-"

"So, I've heard. I've often wondered why you feel you must go into that field? Is it because of the older man. Doc B?"

"Doc G," I corrected her.

"Doc G. It's because of him that you feel this way?"

"I'd been thinking about it before I started working with him. But part of it is because of him, a little, maybe."

"I'd just hate to see you pushed into something that's not really what you want," Karissa went on. "Out of a sense of trying to

please your brothers, or because of the memory of Doc G."

"It's not like that," I said, feeling frustrated. "Doc G was the least pushy person I've ever met! He would never want me to do

something I didn't want to do!"

At her startled look at my outburst, I went on, "And neither would any of the family!"

"Alright, sweetheart," she said, in a conciliatory tone. "I just know how much you want to please your brothers."

"I do want to please them," I agreed. "You make it sound as though there's something wrong with that."

"Not at all. It's admirable. You're very fortunate to have such a family."

Another one of her about-turns. I looked at her, confused, and saw only an agreeing smile.

"I am lucky to have them," I said.

"Most girls your age would be rebelling."

"Well, sometimes I do," I said.

"When you feel they're too strict? Or unfair?" she asked.

"Sometimes."

Hannah chose that moment to come back thru the living room, her arms filled with folded baby clothes.

"Everything going alright?" she asked.

"Harlie and I are having a lovely talk," Karissa said.

"Good," Hannah said, and then looked at me. "Do you need some Tylenol or anything?" she asked.

"No. I'm fine."

"Well, we'll have some lunch here after a bit," Hannah said.

"Will the fellows be coming in for lunch?' Karissa asked.

"I think so," Hannah said.

Karissa nodded. "I should be going. I have a meeting."

"Oh. You can't stay for lunch?" Hannah asked, looking surprised.

"Not today. Don't worry, I'll come again," Karissa said breezily, standing up.

Hannah went to get Karissa's coat as I got to my feet as well.

"You take care of that hand, and that ankle, too," Karissa told me.

"I will."

When Hannah handed Karissa her coat, she put it on, and then patted my arm, and started for the door.

"Here," Hannah said, picking up the box with the skirt and sweater. "You don't want to forget these."

"Oh, of course not," Karissa said, taking the package, and then picking up the boot box as well.

Hannah and I went out onto the porch with her. We watched as she got in, and then she waved jauntily, and drove away, down the

driveway.

"Whew," Hannah said.

I had to admit, at that particular moment, I knew exactly how Hannah felt.

7


	41. Tuna and tension

Hannah and I went back into the house together. When I shut the door behind us, I was suddenly struck by how very, very

quiet the house seemed to be. Hannah turned to look at me.

"You'd better get settled back down with some ice," she told me. "I'll start getting lunch ready."

She started toward the kitchen. "Do you want ham, or tuna?"

"It doesn't matter," I said. I started to hobble after her. "I'll come in the kitchen with you."

"Well, grab the ice," she told me, and I went to the couch to pick up the ice bag.

Once in the kitchen, I sat down at the table, and put the ice back on my ankle. Hannah began getting sandwich fixings

out of the refrigerator. She was silent, getting down plates from the cabinet, and silverware from the drawer, and setting the stack on the table.

I studied her face, trying not to seem obvious about it.

"Are you mad at me?" I asked her, in a quiet voice.

Hannah stopped long enough to look at me. She didn't pretend to misunderstand what I was getting at.

She sighed a little. "I wish you'd slow down in your decisions sometimes. But, no, I'm not mad."

"I shouldn't have said I'd try on the clothes," I said, feeling guilty. I could still see Adam and her standing toe to toe in the kitchen, arguing, because of me.

Hannah sighed again. "I know it was tempting," she said, in understanding. "The clothes are really beautiful. I can see where you'd like them."

"Do you think they're like what the guys think? Too sexy-looking?" I asked her.

Hannah laid down the silverware she was still holding in her hands.

She sat down in the chair next to the one I had my foot propped in.

"The sweater's very nice. The skirt-" she hesitated, "I think it's too short, yes."

"So it's trampy, huh?" I asked.

"I don't know about that," Hannah said. "But if you wear a skirt that short, a girl should be prepared for a lot of attention. Some of it, positive, and some

of it not so positive."

"The not so positive must be from older brothers," I offered up dryly.

"Uh huh," Hannah agreed.

"I know girls at school whose brothers wouldn't give a rat's ass what their sisters were wearing," I said.

Hannah gave me a steady look. "Maybe so. As brothers."

I looked at her, puzzled. "Huh?" I asked.

"Being simply a brother, an ordinary brother, that's totally different from your situation. Adam, and Brian, too, they feel

parental towards you, Harlie. Like a dad."

I nodded. "Yeah. I know that."

"They look at you in something like that, and they know what other guys would be thinking. They want you to be more than a body, that boys look at, and get the wrong idea about," Hannah said.

I moved the bag of ice on my foot to another spot.

"I don't think Crane, or Daniel, would approve either," Hannah continued.

I sighed. I was getting tired of the conversation. "I know they wouldn't."

"There's something else, too," Hannah said, and I looked at her questioningly.

"What?"

"If this were an ordinary situation, where, as an aunt, she'd been around all your life, and wanted to buy you gifts, and they

were appropriate, then that would be one thing. But, for Karissa to breeze in the way that she has, and just-" Hannah hesitated, "Just

attempt to give you such expensive gifts, clothes, and that bracelet, and all, well, that's something entirely different."

"I think she's just trying to make up for the time she missed," I said, in defense of Karissa.

"Maybe so," Hannah said. "I just want you to realize how it might make your brothers feel."

"What do you mean?"

"Harlie, think about it for a minute. They, or we as a family, can't give you what she apparently is able to. Money-wise. It's hard

on Adam, and Brian, too. To feel that they can't give you the things that someone with more money could."

"You mean Karissa, right?" I asked. "Because they didn't act that way about the money Doc G left me for college. They were

just glad about that."

Hannah looked thoughtful. "That's different. They knew that Doc G left that to you with the best of intentions,

and with his love. And they want you to have the advantages of education that the money can give you."

"So you don't think Karissa's intentions are good?" I asked.

Hannah hesitated. "I don't want you to get upset with me," she said slowly, "but I have some doubts, yeah."

"Well, what do you think she's all about then?" I asked.

"I'm not sure. I might be totally wrong." Hannah waved a hand at me. "Let's not worry about it now. I don't want

to see things with her that aren't really there. Just let things keep moving slow, like they are with her. Maybe things will settle down between her and the guys eventually."

"I don't think that will ever happen," I said.

"Well, we can hope," Hannah said, and smiled at me.

I thought of her and Adam, in the kitchen earlier. "What about Adam?" I asked, in worry. "He got mad at you because

of me."

"It'll be fine," Hannah said.

She got up and went back to pulling things out of the refrigerator.

I thought briefly of telling Hannah about what Karissa had said about traveling to far-away places with her, but before I could

work up the nerve, the back door opened, and brothers began to stream inside.

"Breaking for lunch early," Crane told Hannah, going to the sink to wash his hands.

Hannah nodded, stepping around him.

I got up, holding the bag of ice, and moved the few feet to my own chair. I sat down, trying not to draw attention to

myself. Evan reached over my head to grab a piece of bread from the plate in the center of the table.

"What happened to you?" he demanded, bumping my head purposely with his elbow.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I thought you were comin' out to help with Petra."

Obviously Evan didn't know that Karissa had been at the house for a visit.

"I'll come out after lunch," I told him.

When everybody was seated, I looked in Adam's direction, trying not to seem obvious.

He was quiet. And he looked pensive. Serious. He stayed quiet, too, thru most of the meal. Brian talked to Evan, and

Crane about ranch details, but said nothing to me. I was fine with that. I wasn't anxious for the time when either he

or Adam had something to say to me about Karissa, or the incident with the skirt. I was really hoping that Adam wasn't mad at

Hannah. Just the thought of it made my stomach hurt. I picked up my glass of water and took a big drink.

"How's the foot?" Crane asked me, from his seat across the table.

I swallowed my water. "It's a lot better," I said.

"Good," Crane said.

Other than that, nobody said anything to me during the meal. As my brothers finished, and began getting to their

feet, Hannah asked Brian what time Clare would be getting home from the hospital, and then she asked Crane if

he had a date that night.

Brian said he thought Clare would be home before six, and Crane said that he did have a date, with the mystery female

that he's been going out with.

"Alright. How about you, Evan? Would Nancy want to come over for supper? I thought we might do Around the World tonight," Hannah said.

Evan nodded around his bite of roll. "I'll ask Nancy. Thanks, Hannah."

"Maybe I'll call the Johnson's," Hannah added. "And the Carter's. We haven't had them over to eat for awhile."

"Why?" Adam asked from his end of the table.

Hannah looked down the table at him. "What?"

"I said, 'Why'?," Adam repeated. "Why do you want to have a big get-together tonight, and put all that extra work of company on yourself?"

"It's not a big get-together," Hannah said, in protest.

"It's still extra work," Adam said flatly. "And you have enough to do lately, don't you? Why add more on?"

Hannah gave him a look that was more of a glare. "Maybe because I'd like to have an evening with our friends

and neighbors," she said tartly.

"Okay, fine," Adam said, his voice clipped. "But why tonight? Wait until things have settled down a little."

"When will that be?" Hannah countered. "When will we ever not have an emergency around here? A sick cow, or too many

bills, or one of the kids hurt or sick?"

I winced at the words and looks flying between them. Especially since I was one of those "emergencies" that Hannah

was talking about.

"I'll help you get stuff ready for company," I volunteered, turning towards Hannah.

Hannah nodded, but immediately, Adam spoke up, standing up and shoving his chair up to the table.

"You're supposed to be off your foot," he said, curtly, giving me a sharp look. "Remember?"

I turned my head his direction. "I have been," I said. "I've been icing it all morning-"

"Which is what you're supposed to be doing, right?" Adam countered. I should have heeded his tone, and his

look of warning. But I wanted to smooth things over with him and Hannah. I still felt responsible for the tension between

them.

"Yes," I said, "but it's better now. I can help Hannah if she needs it-"

"The doctor said stay off of it for forty-eight hours, didn't he?" Adam said, his voice raising a little. "Iced and

elevated, right?"

I nodded at him.

"So you know better than the doctor, is that it?" Adam asked, and I felt my face turn warm in embarrassment.

"No, Adam," I managed.

"She said no such thing," Hannah spoke up stoutly, in my defense. While I was grateful for her support, I

thought that she'd done enough of that already today. All it had done was cause trouble between her and Adam, and

make him even madder at me.

Adam's gaze never wavered from my face. He acted as though he hadn't heard Hannah speak at all.

"Then I expect you to follow doctor's orders and stay off your foot, with ice, the rest of today, and tomorrow, too," he

told me. "Got it?"

I nodded at him, feeling miserable.

"Be in for supper," he said shortly, as he passed Hannah's chair.

"Oh, fantastic," Hannah retorted, with sarcasm.

Adam stopped to give her a look, and then he went out the back door. The rest of us, Crane, Hannah, Brian, Evan and I

sat there for a couple of moments, with nobody saying a word.

Hannah got up, too, then, and very quietly, she went up the back stairs.

Evan gave a low whistle, and shook his head.

"Right," Crane said, in agreement, looking a little worried.

"They'll be smooching it up by suppertime," Brian predicted. I shot him a look. I wasn't so sure about that.

"Let's get the dishes done," Crane said, scraping back his chair and standing up. "Come on, Ev."

"Me?" Evan protested, around the bite of roll he still had in his mouth.

"Yeah. You," Crane said, stacking dishes and carrying them to the sink.

Evan got to his feet with a sigh, picking up silverware and glasses.

Which left Brian and I as the only ones still sitting at the table.

I gave him a quick furtive glance, and he looked back at me.

"Come on, hoppy," he said, standing up, and motioning at me with his hand. I stood up, too, and Brian

gestured towards the living room. He picked up the ice bag that had been setting beside my plate, and I followed

him to the other room, though a lot more slowly due to my sore ankle.

I was encouraged by his calling me 'hoppy'. Maybe he wasn't going to bring up the whole skirt disaster of

earlier.

"You got some books or somethin' to read?" Brian asked me. "There's not gonna be a whole lot on TV at this time

of day, is there?'

"No, I guess not," I said. "I've got a book to read."

"Well get settled on the couch," he told me, and I sank down onto the cushions, and he bent down a little to look

closer at my foot.

"It looks better," he said. "The swellings gone down." He put the ice on my ankle.

"It's not hurting," I said, and when he gave me a raised eyebrow look, I added, "Well, not much."

"How about your hand?" he asked. "Need some medicine?"

"Not right yet," I told him.

"Alright. See ya after awhile."

"Okay." I hesitated, and when he had his hand on the doorknob, turning it, I said, "Bri?"

"What?" he asked, turning back.

"I hate it when Adam and Hannah fight."

"I don't think they enjoy it, either," Brian said dryly.

"You know what I mean," I told him.

"Yeah. I know. They'll be fine." He gave me a nod, and went out.

I leaned back against the couch cushions, and tried to read. I couldn't concentrate no matter how hard I

tried. After a few minutes, when I couldn't hear Crane or Evan's voices coming from the kitchen any longer, I

called out, "Crane?"

No response. I sighed. They'd gone out the back way. I went back to trying to read.

7

I fell asleep, and when I woke up, it was because somebody was tickling the bottom of my foot. I jerked

my foot back and opened my eyes.

"Hey, wild child," Nancy said, in greeting, from where she sat at the opposite end of the couch.

"Hey," I said, sitting up straight and catching her hand. "I'm glad you're here!"

"Yeah? How come?"

"Because I'm bored out of my head, and now I have someone to talk to," I told her.

"Well, maybe I won't stay in here and talk to you. What do you think of that?" she said, and grinned at me.

"I won't let you go," I said, and clutched her hand tighter.

"Okay, okay," she laughed. "Turn me loose. I'll stay."

7


	42. Broccoli-the food of Kings

Nancy and I were still hanging out when Guthrie got home from school, and he had Kristin with him! She came

in, with Guthrie behind her, grinning.

I squealed when I saw her.

"It's been forever since you were here," I told her.

"It seems like forever," Kristin agreed.

"Can you spend the night?" I asked.

"Well, Guthrie said come for supper, but I think maybe I can spend the night," Kristin said, and we both

squealed again.

"Well, what are we havin' for supper?" Guthrie asked me.

I told him I wasn't sure, that Hannah had said something about having company over for Around the World.

"Okay. I'll get my chores done," Guthrie said, and then as an afterthought, he pulled two books and some papers out

of his backpack. "Here's your homework," he told me.

I realized that I hadn't seen Hannah since lunchtime. Of course part of that time I'd been asleep on the

couch. When I stood up, I felt as though I could put weight on my foot, and the three of us girls went to the

kitchen, where Nancy began to pull out cookbooks, looking over recipes.

"What's some good ideas for this 'Around the World' thing?" she asked me.

"Whatever you want to make," I told her, explaining that the food was supposed to have a foreign theme.

"I'm not a very good cook," Nancy admitted.

Kristin and I exchanged an amused look.

"You know Evan really likes broccoli, don't you?" I told her, a feeling of mischief coming over me.

"No way," Nancy said, looking up at me. "For real?"

"It's his all-time favorite," I said, sincerely, ignoring Kristin's poke to my back.

"I didn't know that," Nancy mused. "What's a good recipe to put broccoli in, though? And do you all

have some here?"  
I knew for a fact that we did, indeed, have broccoli in the vegetable crisper.

"Yeah. We have some," I assured her.

"Here's a recipe for parmesan-roasted broccoli," Nancy said, tapping her finger on a page in the cookbook. "How's

that for a foreign theme? Sort of Italian, right?"

"Oh, perfect," I said, while Kristin gave me another nudge in the ribs, raising her eyebrows. "You should surprise him," I told Nancy. "You

know, not say anything about making it, until it's time to eat."

"Good idea," Nancy agreed.

The phone was ringing, so I left them in the kitchen, and limped off

to the living room.

"Hello, sweetheart," Karissa said, after I'd said hello.

"Hi."

"I'm just calling to see how things are."

For a moment I wasn't sure what she meant. "What?"

"I thought there was quite a bit of tension between Adam and Hannah when I left," she said.

For some reason, I didn't want Karissa to know that Hannah and Adam were still put out with one another.

"They're fine," I said.

"I don't think I was imagining the tension," she told me.

"They were a little, but they're okay now."

"Well, that's good," she said, with a cheerful tone to her voice. "I just hate the thought of you having to listen to

them argue and fuss. I'll talk to you soon," she said, and hung up.

I put the phone receiver down, thinking. Karissa really was spacey at times.

The front door opened, and brothers began to stream inside. Guthrie beat a path to the kitchen to see

Kristin. Crane announced that he was going upstairs to take a shower to get ready to go out.

Adam headed up the stairs without saying too much.

"Where's Nancy?" Evan asked me.

"In the kitchen." A sudden impish impulse caused me to add, "She wants to surprise you with something. So don't

go in there."

"Yeah?" he asked, looking pleased. "Okay."

When I went back to the kitchen, Kristin was helping Nancy chop up broccoli, while Guthrie watched, perched

on the edge of the cabinet, eating a cookie.

"What's that gonna be?" Guthrie was asking, wrinkling his nose at the sight of all that broccoli.

"A surprise for Evan," Nancy said, peering over the recipe.

"For Evan?" Guthrie asked, incredulously. "Evan-"

"Guthrie, come help me," I interrupted, and Kristin and I hustled him out of the kitchen.

"What?" he demanded, when we were out of earshot of the kitchen.

I looked around to make sure Evan wouldn't overhear, either.

"Shhh," I told him.

"Evan hates broccoli," Guthrie hissed in a whisper. "What are you up to?"

"Just a little joke," I said.

Guthrie shook his head at me.

"You've got bats in the belfry," Guthrie told me.

Brian passed by the three of us, and stopped briefly. "What are you three up to?" he asked.

"I'm up to nothing," Guthrie told him.

"Is supper goin'?" Brian asked, in a general way.

"Not really," I said. "I didn't know what Hannah wanted to do."

"I'll throw some cheeseburgers on," Brian said, and went off towards the kitchen.

I told Guthrie in a hushed voice about Hannah and Adam's fight earlier, and he frowned in concern.

"Huh," he said, looking worried. Guthrie hates their arguments as much as I do.

"Let's go up and check on them," I suggested.

"I think we ought to leave them alone," Guthrie protested, but he went along as I pulled him towards the stairs.

"I'll wait down here," Kristin said.

"Chicken," Guthrie told her.

At the closed door of Adam and Hannah's bedroom, Guthrie and I both hesitated, looking at each other.

"Well, go on," Guthrie told me. "This is your bright idea. So go on and knock."

I gave Guthrie a 'really?' sort of look, but I raised my knuckles and rapped on the door.

"Come in," Hannah called out.

When I opened the door, Guthrie and I went into the room, where Hannah was sitting on the bed, changing Isaac to a clean

onesie. She was wearing a dress I'd never seen her wear before, a gray one, with a silver belt around her waist, and black flat shoes. She

was wearing more makeup than she usually did, and had on hoop earrings. She looked beautiful.

"Hello, you two," she greeted us.

"Hi," Guthrie said.

I went closer to the bed. "You look great," I told her.

"Thanks. Will you two help Clare and Brian keep an eye on Isaac tonight?" she asked.

"Sure thing," Guthrie said, while I nodded.

Before I could ask her where she was going, all dressed up, the door to their adjoining bathroom opened, and Adam came out. He was

dressed up, too, in good jeans, and a western shirt that he was tucking in as he walked. He had on his good boots, the ones he wears

to church or for special occasions.

"Hey, kids," he said to Guthrie and I.

"Hi," Guthrie said again.

"Hi," I echoed.

"You all are on your own for supper tonight," Adam said. "Hannah and I are goin' out."

"Oh, that's good!" I said, feeling glad inside. However it had happened, they had obviously worked out their irritation with each other

from earlier.

Adam rested a hand on the back of Hannah's shoulder, and she looked up at him with a soft smile, and then lifted Isaac

to her shoulder.

"Are you going to the movies and dinner?" I asked curiously.

"Dinner. Movies. Dancing," Adam said, squeezing Hannah's shoulder. "We may even drive to Las Vegas. Who knows?"

Hannah smiled at Adam again, and stood up, and Guthrie held out his arms for the baby.

"Here, I'll take Scooter," Guthrie said, and Hannah handed Isaac to him.

Guthrie headed towards the door, but I stood there for another few moments, watching Hannah and Adam, as she

handed him a necklace from the dresser. "Can you fasten this for me?" she asked Adam, and he lifted her hair, fastening

the clasp on the necklace, and then leaning to brush his lips against her hair.

It suddenly felt like an intimate moment between them, and I went to join Guthrie at the door. I pulled it closed behind

us, and we stood in the hallway looking at each other.

We smiled at each other, and then went downstairs.

7

As supper was being put onto the table, and Evan came into the kitchen, he went to put his arm around Nancy.

"Sit down, sit down," Nancy told him, pushing Evan towards his chair, and then sitting down beside him, as we all found our

chairs.

"Why's my plate all covered?" Evan asked, lifting at the foil on his plate. "And what's that smell?" he demanded, wrinkling his

face in disgust. "Man, it smells like broccoli in here."

"It is!" Nancy said, happily, uncovering the steaming plate of broccoli.

"Aww, who made that?" Evan protested.

"I did," Nancy said, looking puzzled. "It's got an Italian spin to it, to go along with the Around the World thing."

"Well, that's good," Evan said. "I mean, I know Clare likes broccoli, don't you, Clare?" He turned towards Clare, who

was sitting in her spot beside Brian.

"I like broccoli," Clare said agreeably, nodding at Nancy.

"I hope everybody likes it," Nancy said, looking even more puzzled, "but I made it for you, Evan."

"Oh." Evan looked startled, and unsure of what to say.

"Broccoli's your favorite, right?" Nancy asked him, clearly waiting for Evan to leap for joy at the sight of all that greeny goodness.

"Not even close to my favorite," Evan said.

"Huh?"

"Babe, when have you ever seen me eat broccoli?" Evan asked her.

"Well, never, I guess," Nancy said, looking as though she was thinking.

"Truthfully, I hate broccoli," Evan said, "but it was sweet of you to make it for me-"

"But, Harlie said-" Nancy began.

The giggle I'd been suppressing burst out. Kristin giggled too, and Guthrie was grinning.

Across the table from us, Nancy's eyes narrowed, and I had the sudden, and too-late thought that Nancy might get mad

at me.

"Just a little joke," I said, and giggled again.

"Harlie-" Nancy began.

"You told her to make that nasty stuff for me?" Evan asked, looking over at me incredulously.

"Just a little joke, Ev," I repeated.

"A little joke?" he said, giving me a menacing glare.

I sobered up quickly, making my expression properly concillitory. "Um, yeah, you know, ha ha?" I said.

"No," Evan said.

I heard a muffled laugh coming three chairs over, from Clare. This emboldened me a bit.

"April Fool's," I said.

"A month too early," Nancy said.

"Are you mad?" I asked her.

"No," she said slowly, and I released a relieved breath.

"I don't get mad generally," she said, and smiled a little. "I do, however, get even."

Now it was Brian who was snickering.

"What's that mean?" I asked Nancy.

"When you least expect it-" Nancy let her voice trail off, and then said, "Pow!" and I jumped, startled.

"You're gonna beat me up?" I asked, grinning at her.

"Nope," Nancy said, moving Evan's plate of offensive, steaming broccoli from in front of him, and pushing it across the table

towards me. "I'm more sneaky than that."

I hadn't realized I was holding my breath again, until she smiled at me.

"Fair enough," I said.

"It's on between us, wild child," Nancy said, and then passed the plate of cheeseburgers to Evan.

Evan took a cheeseburger, and then said, casually, "You have a lot of broccoli to eat," to me.

"I guess," I said, giving him an impish grin.

"And I, on the other hand, might resort to physical violence," Evan said, layering his cheeseburger with

ketchup without taking his eyes from my face.

"Brian won't let you, will you, Bri?" I said, sassy.

"Hey, I don't have a dog in this fight. Leave me out of it," Brian said, reaching for the bowl of baked beans, and half the table snickered at

Brian's comment.

"I'm hurt, though," I said, holding up my casted hand. "And my ankle? Not a fair fight, Ev."

"I'll give you a head start," Evan said.

Everybody ate a lot, topping it off with a pie that Clare had pulled out of the freezer. I had finished eating, but I was thinking

about a piece of apple pie, though I knew I shouldn't.

It was while I was debating that I looked over to see Evan leaning back in his chair, watching me.

"What?" I asked him.

"You done eating?" he asked.

"I haven't decided. Why?"

"I wanted to give you that head start."

I surveyed Evan, trying to determine if he was clowning around or if he was really mad at me.

"Come on, Ev," I said.

"I'll count to, oh, say about twenty, and then I'll come after ya," Evan said. His eyes sparkled at me.

Glad he was going along with the joke of the broccoli, I smirked at him.

"On second thought," I said, finishing my glass of milk, "I could outrun you, even with a sprained ankle."

"Yeah?" he challenged.

"Yeah. You've gotten slow."

"No such thing," Evan denied.

I casually scooted my chair back just a bit, and then took another bite of broccoli to throw Evan off the track.

"Mmmm, yummy," I said, smacking my lips together.

"And besides being slow," I said, "you've gotten-"

Evan narrowed his eyes at me again, waiting.

"OLD!" I yelled, and got up, making a hobbling run for the doorway out of the kitchen.

Everybody started laughing, and Evan was after me, closing the space between us with no difficulty at all.

"Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen," he said, in a rush of words, grabbing me around the waist.

"Hey! You didn't get to twenty!" I protested, as he hoisted me off my feet.

7

The evening passed with a couple of card games, and lots of laughter. It was a really good evening. I don't know what time Hannah

and Adam finally got home, because Kristin and I were long asleep by then. It had been such a fun evening that

I would have cause to remember it with fondness many times later on in the coming weeks. The coming weeks when things

got very, very dismal and black.

7


	43. Mysterious message

On Wednesday night, I drove to my night class. At first I'd gotten flack from my brothers about driving myself. They kept pointing

out that driving with a cast on my right hand would affect my driving ability.

Finally, to solve the issue, Brian went out driving with me, and I was able to prove to him that I could drive just fine.

He, in turn, talked to Crane and Adam, telling them I'd be alright.

So, I set out on Wednesday after supper, although not without directives and admonishments from all of them about how careful

I needed to be, and all of that.

I took a few deep breaths as I drove out of the driveway, feeling free. Free!

I was one of the first ones to arrive in the classroom, and Miss Noel looked up from where she was sitting on the edge of a desk,

talking to another woman in the class.

"Harlie," she said. "Hello."

"Hi," I greeted her, and said hello to the other woman, too.

I found a desk and sat down, and Miss Noel came over to stand beside me.

"How're your injuries?" she asked me, gesturing towards my hand.

"Better," I told her. "I'm getting used to the cast."

She asked me how I'd liked the assigned reading.

We talked for a few minutes, and then when class began, time passed quickly.

It was much later when I realized that she hadn't asked how I'd broken my hand, or asked any other questions.

7

Halfway thru the class time, we took our customary break. I went to get a cup of water, and then stood before the vending machine,

trying to decide whether I should risk a candy bar or not. I remembered that there were some granola bars in my truck.

That was good, I thought. They were sweet, but not as bad for me as a candy bar. I went outside to the parking lot.

I had opened the truck door, and was leaning in, shining a flashlight into the seat, looking for the granola bars. I saw the folded piece

of paper laying in the seat. I grabbed it and a granola bar, and went back inside the school. I wondered if it was a piece of paper that

had gotten left from when I'd driven last, but then I saw the front of it under the lights, where my name was printed, in square, neat letters.

I knew, even before I opened it, who it was from.

7

I should have waited to read it, until after class was over. But I didn't have that kind of restraint.

"Darling Harlie

I enjoyed our time together on Friday. So much! I only regret that you weren't allowed to keep the gifts I brought. And also,

of course, I'm saddened by the lack of restraint your brothers have with anger. I will be traveling a bit to take care of

some important business in the coming week. You can leave a message at the number I gave you, should you need to reach me. I

understand there may be things that are difficult for you to accept, and to understand, but I have faith in the strength of our

relationship, and know that you will see these things to be for the best. For both of us. Talk soon.

Your Aunt Karissa"

I stood there in the hallway, leaning against a locker, feeling stunned. What a weird message. Insulting to my brothers and a little

cryptic at the end. What in the heck did she mean by that? I reread it over again. "I know you will see these things to be for the best. For both of

us." What was that about?

"Harlie?" I heard someone say, and I turned, a little startled.

"Everything alright?" Miss Noel asked, standing in the doorway of the classroom.

"Umm, yeah," I said, stuffing the note into the pocket of my jeans.

"We're getting ready to start class again," she said.

"Okay," I said, and followed her back into the classroom.

I tried to focus, to concentrate during the rest of class time, but my mind kept going over that note.

On the drive home, my thoughts were still on that, and not where they should have been, which was on my driving. I wasn't driving real fast,

either. Maybe a little faster than I should, but still, everything would have been fine, except for the deer. I hit the brakes as soon as I

saw him run in front of me, in the darkness. I ended up cross-ways at the edge of the ditch, and sat there watching as the deer gave me

a look, and then ran off into the woods.

I tried to get my bearings, relieved that I hadn't hit the deer. Or a tree. Still, I felt panicked. I put the truck in reverse, trying to back

up, but the wheels just spun. I tried several more times, but nothing happened, except the sound of rocks being throw by the tires.

I got out, using my flashlight to look at the back tires. I wasn't stuck, I didn't think. I just needed some traction.

I was debating what to do. I was about two miles or so from home. I could walk to the house, and get help. I sighed. I

didn't see any other choice. I turned on my flashers, so my truck wouldn't be hit by anybody that happened by. I grabbed my wallet

and started walking. I hadn't gone far, maybe a half-mile or so, when an oncoming vehicle's lights approached.

Living in the country like we do, and as close to home as I was, I felt no real concern or worry about danger. Still, it would be dumb

to advertise the fact that a girl was out walking a country road in the pitch-dark alone. So, I switched off my flashlight, and stepped down

into the ditch, waiting for the vehicle to pass by. The truck slowed down as it got closer, and I felt my stomach jump in nerves, thinking I

might need to run, if it was a stranger.

The headlights shone in my eyes, and then the truck stopped. When I heard a familiar voice, I sighed in relief.

"Harlie? Is that you?"

Brian.

I came up out of the ditch, and to his open passenger window.

"Yeah," I said, a little breathless.

"What are you doin'?" Brian demanded, getting out of the truck, and coming around to meet me. He took hold of my arm. "Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm fine," I assured him.

"What happened? Flat tire?"

"There was a deer," I began, and Brian looked concerned in the light of the headlights.

"I didn't hit it," I hastened to explain. "I was able to stop in time. It ran off."

"Why you walkin' then?"

"I need some traction or something. I hit a soft spot. The tires won't move."

"Okay. Get in," he told me, and after we were both in the dark cab of the old truck, he asked again, "You sure you're alright?"

"Yeah. I'm sure."

"How far?"

"About another half-mile or so," I told him. "I left the flashers on."

"That's good. So, are you stuck or what?" he asked.

"I don't think I'm stuck. I think I just need some traction."

When we got to where I'd left my truck parked, Brian pulled over to the opposite side of the road, and parked, turning on his own flashers.

Brian went to look at the rear tires, and then went to grab a shovel from the back of the ranch truck, and began to scrape away

at the grass and gravel miring down the tires.

"Yeah, you're in a soft spot," he told me. "Get in, and let's see what happens. I'm gonna get around front, and you

put it in reverse and then put it to the floor, while I push. Alright?"

"Okay," I said, climbing in.

"Wait a minute," he said, getting in a position in front of the truck. "Now make sure you put it in reverse," he called out to me. "I don't

feel like bein' ran over today."

"Funny!" I called back at him, putting the truck into reverse, and keeping my foot on the brake.

"Alright. Count of three, and then you gun it," Brian called.

"Okay!"

"One, two, three!" he hollered, and I pressed the accelerator to the floor, as Brian pushed from the front. It felt as though to me

I was moving a little, but mostly I guess that was from Brian pushing and rocking the truck.

"Hold on!" he yelled, and I pressed on the brake.

He left his position, and went around to the back, where he scraped some more grass and gravel away from the tires.

Once he was back around front again, his shoulder against the front of the truck, ready to push, he called out, "Go!"

This time, I was able to back out, onto the road. I put the truck in neutral, and Brian came to my open driver's window.

"Alright, I think you're good to go," he said.

"Thanks," I told him. "Did you get really muddy?"

"I don't know," Brian said. "Not too bad, I don't think."

"Where were you going?" I asked.

"Just running an errand real quick."

I gave him a curious look. "It's late for an errand," I offered.

"Yeah, it is, Miss Nosy," Brian said. "See if you can make it all the way home without a problem this time, alright?"

"Funny, funny," I mumbled.

"Okay. See you after a bit."

We said goodbye, and Brian walked back over to the ranch truck, and I drove the short distance home.

Adam and Hannah were sitting on the couch, close together, and holding hands. Clare was sitting in the recliner opposite of them,

looking pale and washed out.

I said hi to all of them, and then went ahead and told Adam what had happened. He didn't say anything at first. He just looked

thoughtful, and said, "Hmm."

"I'm glad you didn't hit the deer," Hannah said, sounding relieved.

"Me, too," I said. Adam still hadn't said much, so I added, "I wasn't driving fast," in defense.

"The deer are everywhere," Hannah said, helpfully, in support.

"You're alright?" Adam asked me. "Didn't hit the dashboard or anything?"

"No. I'm fine."

"How was class?" he asked then.

"Good. I've got a lot of assigned reading to do." I gave a look around, wondering where Crane and Guthrie and Evan were. "Where is

everybody?"

"Evan and Crane are out somewhere, and Guthrie's in the shower," Hannah said.

"You'd better be gettin' to bed," Adam said. "It's gettin' late."

"Okay." I stopped beside the chair that Clare was sitting in. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"I'm okay. Just wiped out from my shift at the hospital," Clare said, with a wan smile.

I nodded, and told them all goodnight.

When I went upstairs, I paused at the bathroom door, where I could still hear the water from the shower running.

I pounded on the door. "Guthrie!"

"What?" he yelled back.

"Turn off the water quick! Quick! Hurry!" I called, trying to sound urgent.

I heard the water shut off, and a moment or two later, Guthrie stuck his head out the bathroom door, his hair dripping.

"What's wrong?" he asked, and I smiled serenely.

"Nothing. Just wanted to say hello," I said, and stepped back as he made a grab for me.

"I'm gonna kill ya," he threatened, glowering at me.

"Oooo," I said, pretending to shake in fear. Guthrie promptly shut the door with a slam, and I laughed, and went back towards my

bedroom.

I got into my pajamas, figuring that I would take a shower in the morning, since Guthrie had likely used up all the hot water anyway.

Besides that, I was tired.

I was doing a few minutes of reading before going to sleep, when there was a knock on the door. An impatient knock.

"Enter!" I called out, fairly certain of who it was knocking.

Guthrie entered, wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants, barefoot, and with his hair still dripping slightly.

"What's the idea, funny girl?" he demanded.

I grinned at him. "I couldn't resist."

Guthrie waved a hand at me. "I'm goin' to bed."

"Wait. I want to show you something."

"What?" he asked, coming closer to my bed.

I reached over on my nightstand to pick up the note that Karissa had left me. I handed it to him, and he read over it, his

eyebrows raising a little.

"She left it in my truck while I was inside at class," I told him.

"Wow." Guthrie sat down on the edge of my bed. "What does this stuff she wrote mean? It sounds weird."

"I don't know. I've been trying to figure it out."

"I'm beginning to think she's near impossible to figure out," Guthrie said.

"It's probably nothing," I said. "I just wanted to show it to you."

"Yeah." Guthrie looked over the note again. "Probably more of her nonsense."

He handed it back to me, and I pulled open the nightstand drawer, and dropped it in.

"You think you should show it to Adam?" Guthrie asked.

I hesitated. "I don't think I really need to. He'll just get mad. And like you said, it's probably just more of her theatrics."

"Well. Okay," Guthrie said. "But if she leaves you another one that says more stuff like this, then you should show 'em."

"I will."

"I'm beat," Guthrie said, standing up. "I'll see you in the mornin'."

"Okay. Night, Guth."

"Night, hyena."

7


	44. Pie and biscuits

On Saturday morning, I went along with Brian and Guthrie to town. We went in the old ranch truck, our plans being to pick up the

weekly feed, and run some other errands.

As we bounced along, Guthrie was trying to talk Brian into stopping by the café, for some of Marie's biscuits and gravy.

"Good Lord, boy," Brian said, with a shake of his head. "You just ate."

"It's been two hours," Guthrie grumbled. "And I'm hungry."

"Humph," Brian said.

"You know you're cravin' a piece of her apple pie," Guthrie continued.

"We'll see," Brian said, and Guthrie and I exchanged a grin.

"That means yes," Guthrie told me, loudly, and I laughed.

As we pulled up in the back of the feed store, by the loading dock, I climbed down out of the truck after Brian.

"Can I go see if Ivy's at the office?" I asked Brian. "I just want to say hello."

"Yeah. I guess so."

"Hurry back," Guthrie called after me. "Or you'll miss out on goin' to Marie's!"

"I'll be back in a little while," I called back.

I was feeling pretty good. Strong. I thought I might actually go into the vet office. It would be the first time that I'd been

inside since Doc G had died.

Ivy's truck wasn't parked out front, though. I wondered if she was parked around the back of the building. I tried the

door, but it was locked. I looked at the statue of the basset hound, considering looking to see if the key was still hidden there.

But I didn't. I sighed, and turned to go back to the feed store.

I went to tell Brian where I was going, and then I walked on over to the café.

Marie was serving coffee to a table of older ranchers, who I knew made it their regular Saturday practice to come and drink

coffee at the café, and swap stories with each other. I went to sit at the counter, waiting until she breezed back over in my direction.

"Hello, honey-girl," she greeted me, setting the pot of coffee down, and then coming around to give me a hard hug.

"Hi."

"It's about time you came to visit me," she said.

"Guthrie and Brian are coming in, too, in a few minutes. Guthrie wants biscuits and gravy."

"Oh, that's fine," Marie said, looking happy.

Marie sat down next to me, and we talked for a few minutes, until Guthrie and Brian made their appearance. At that point, Marie promptly got

up, greeting them both with a hug, as well.

"I hear you want my biscuits and gravy," Marie said, ruffling Guthrie's hair affectionately.

"I was hoping," Guthrie said.

Marie laughed. "I'll go see what I can round up," she said. "How about you, Brian?"

"A piece of pie. And some coffee," Brian told her.

"What kind of pie?"

"Any kind you bring to the table," Brian said.

As Marie headed to the kitchen, Brian waved his hand at me.

"I'm sitting in a booth," he said.

I got up and followed he and Guthrie to a booth, sitting on the inside while Guthrie plopped down beside me, with Brian across from us.

"How come Clare didn't go to work today?" Guthrie asked Brian, reaching for a packet of sugar, and, opening it, poured it directly into his mouth.

"She's just takin' a few days off," Brian said. "She needs a break."

"Oh," Guthrie said.

"It's pretty rough sometimes, you know, workin' at the hospital," Brian said curtly.

Brian looked tense, and Guthrie held up his hands. "Okay, Bri. I just asked."

"Sorry," Brian said, and Guthrie shrugged.

"It's okay."

I'd listened to the exchange between them without comment. I'd been wondering about Clare myself. She was just as sweet as ever, but seemed

quieter, and kind of 'out of it' lately.

I decided since Guthrie had brought the subject to the forefront, that I'd ask my own questions.

"She's okay though, right?" I asked Brian, feeling worried. "She's not sick, or anything like that, is she?"

"She's just tired. Worn out from dealin' with stuff at work."

Both Guthrie and I were looking at him, seriously, and Brian sighed.

"You two don't need to worry about Clare. She's fine."

We both nodded at him, and settled back as Marie came over to the table, carrying pie, and a plate of biscuits and gravy.

"Lacey's bringing your coffee," Marie told Brian.

"Great," Brian said, reaching for the apple pie.

"Scoot your chair over and let an old lady sit down next to you," Marie told him.

"I don't see any old ladies here," Brian said, giving Marie a wink.

When the new waitress brought Brian's coffee, she brought a plate of scones, too, and I was nibbling on one of those,

and we were all talking, when Lacey came back over to the table.

"There's a phone call for Brian," she said.

Brian got to his feet, wiping his mouth on a napkin. "A man can't even have a piece of pie without bein' bothered," he grumbled, and

we all laughed.

Marie kept talking to Guthrie and I while Brian was on the phone. I only glanced Brian's direction once, from where he was

standing, talking on the telephone by the cash register. I could only see the side of his face, but he looked grim, and it looked as though

he was mostly listening, not talking much.

"Brian looks mad," I told Guthrie, nodding towards Brian.

Guthrie looked, too, and shrugged, eating more biscuits and gravy.

I went back to talking with Marie, not looking in Brian's direction again.

When Brian came back to our table, he was reaching into his pocket and taking out his wallet.

He pulled out some folded bills, and laid them on the table.

"What's wrong?" Marie asked him, and that's when I looked up. Brian's face was drawn. He looked upset, and angry, too.

"We need to be goin'," he said shortly, in answer to Marie's question.

"What is it, Bri?" Guthrie asked.

"You two sit here for a minute," Marie told Guthrie and I, and stood up, pulling Brian by the arm to the outside of the café.

Guthrie and I watched them out the window. It was obvious from their conversation that something was wrong. After Brian talked, Marie's

facial expression changed. She looked upset, too.

"Something's wrong," I said, feeling a knot in my stomach at seeing the two of them look that way.

"Yeah," Guthrie said, in agreement, pushing his plate away.

"Maybe it's Clare," I said. "Or Isaac. Or-"

"No sense in tryin' to guess until we know," Guthrie said, sounding sensible. He sounded that way, but I knew he was

worried, too, by the way he kept popping his knuckles.

"Let's go out there," I said, standing up, and pointing to where Brian stood outside on the sidewalk with Marie. "And see what's going on."

"Just hang tight for a minute," Guthrie said.

"Come ON, Guthrie," I insisted.

"Just wait," Guthrie said, though he got to his feet as well.

And, since I didn't want to charge out onto the sidewalk by myself, after being told to stay inside, then I waited, too. Not patiently, but

I waited.

Marie and Brian were still talking. While Guthrie and I watched them thru the window, we saw Brian moving his hands around, and then shaking his head.

Marie patted his arm, and talked again, looking serious.

Finally, Marie turned and came back into the café. She motioned to Guthrie and I, and when we came over, she gave us both a squeeze, and

said, "You two go on along with Brian, now."

She sounded weird.

"What is it, Marie?" I asked.

"Your brothers will tell you about it," Marie said.

I remembered the last time that something similar to this had happened. I'd been summoned home in an abrupt way, and had gotten

there to hear that Doc G had died of a heart attack.

I felt suddenly so frightened that my knees felt weak.

"Has somebody died?" I asked Marie, in a quavering voice.

"No!" Marie said, and then she sighed, and smoothed my hair away from my face. "No," she said, more quietly. "It's not a death. Nothing

like that."

I was relieved, but only slightly. I still knew it was something big.

"Now go on," she told us. "I'll talk to you both later."

Guthrie and I went outside, where Brian was standing in front of the truck, leaning against it. He looked up at us, and jingled the keys

in his hand.

"Ready, kids?" he asked us, and then got into the truck.

Guthrie and I exchanged a puzzled look, and then we got in, too. Once I'd settled myself in the middle, and Guthrie had shut the door,

Brian started the motor, and we began to drive out of Murphys.

"I think Adam was wanting to sort the calves this afternoon," Brian said, after a few minutes of silence.

"Okay," Guthrie said.

I couldn't believe that Brian was talking like that, about everyday, normal things.

I twisted in the seat to look at him.

"What's wrong, Bri?" I asked. "It's something bad, isn't it?"

"Well, it's not good," Brian admitted.

"Is somebody sick?" I persisted.

"No," Brian said. "Nobody's sick. We'll talk about it at home."

"Why can't you tell Guthrie and me now?" I insisted.

"Because. It's something we need to discuss, all together. At home." His voice was firm.

"But, Brian-" I began to protest, though Guthrie was poking my leg in an attempt to get me to be silent.

"Harlie!" Brian snapped, his voice a bark. "I said 'No'! Did you hear me?"

I met his furious gaze, and felt myself instinctively moving closer to Guthrie's side.

"I hear," I said, in a really quiet voice, because I could tell that he expected me to answer.

After a few minutes of total, uncomfortable silence in the truck, I heard Brian sigh deeply. Then he reached over and laid his

hand on my knee. "We'll talk in just a few minutes. Alright? Try not to worry."

Try not to worry? I thought that had to be about the craziest thing I'd ever heard.

But all I said was, "Okay."

7


	45. A suit of surprise

When we got home, Brian backed the truck up to the barn, in preparation for unloading the feed. We'd finished the remainder

of the ride home in silence. I got out after Guthrie, and looked around. It seemed kind of quiet. Nobody appeared from the barn to

greet us. I took note of vehicles that were parked.

The only one missing was Evan's truck. It looked as though everyone else was at home.

"We gonna unload the feed now?" Guthrie asked Brian.

"No. Let's go on inside. See where everybody's at," Brian said.

So we went up the stairs onto the porch, Guthrie and I following Brian inside.

We could hear voices coming from the kitchen, and when Brian headed that way, Guthrie and I did, too. Huddled together at one

end of the table together, were Adam, Hannah, Crane and Clare. Adam was drinking coffee, while Hannah and Clare were sipping

at cups that held tea bags. The table went instantly silent as we came into the room. Later, I would remember the look on Adam's face with

painful clarity. He looked-well, stricken would be the word, I guess. Crane didn't look all that great, either, and he got to his feet, as Brian

went to stand behind Clare's chair, resting his hand on her shoulder.

"Hey, kids," Adam said. His voice sounded strange. And as if he was making a major effort to sound normal in his greeting.

"Hey," Guthrie said.

"Hey," I echoed.

Crane came over to Guthrie and I and wrapped an arm around both of our necks.

"What's goin' on?" Guthrie asked, looking at Crane for an answer.

Crane hesitated, and then said, "We're going to talk about it."

He gave me a sideways hug, and then went to pour a cup of coffee. That left me standing there, again with Guthrie. Waiting.

Brian sat down and scooted a chair up to the table.

"Sit down, you two," Brian told us.

Guthrie obediently went to sit next to Hannah, and she reached over to give his hand a squeeze.

I stood where I was.

"Come on, sugar, sit down," Adam told me.

"I'm not sure I want to," I said. "You all are scaring me. Marie said nobody had died, or anything. That's true, isn't it?"

"Nobody's died, sweetie," Hannah said.

"Then what?" I demanded. I knew, with absolute certainty, that I was not going to like what they had to say.

Brian pulled the chair next to him out, away from the table. He patted the seat of the chair.

"Come sit," he told me, his voice firm.

I went to sit where he told me, and when I looked across the table at Adam and Hannah, I could tell Hannah had been crying. It takes

a lot to make Hannah cry. Crane took the seat on the other side of me.

"Karissa is petitioning for custody," Adam said, looking at me.

I blinked at Adam, confused. "What?"

"Custody. Of you," Adam restated. "She wants you to live with her."

I looked at Brian, and then Crane, and then back to Adam again.

"Oh," I said, thinking. I shrugged a little, not taking it seriously. "It's just a whim, or something. She'll forget about it."

"No, sugar," Adam said, and it was then that I saw the papers in front of him. He lifted the papers and then let them drift down again.

"She's serious. These papers are from the court. A deputy brought them this morning," he added.

Brian reached across and pulled the papers over, and began reading them.

"Well, that's silly," I said. "I'll just say that I don't want to do that. And that'll be it."

"No," Adam said again, and then when it looked as though he was going to say more, he stopped talking, and took another drink

of coffee. I saw that his hands were shaking a little.

"Why not?" I asked, my stomach doing flip flops.

"Because, Harlie. This is a legal action. We have to see it thru," Adam said.

I wanted to scream. Yell. Stamp my feet.

Instead, I sat up really straight, and twisted my hands together tightly.

"Okay, then," I said. "What does that mean, exactly?"

"We'll need to get some legal advice," Adam said. "A lawyer. To represent us."

"Maybe we wouldn't have to do that," I persisted. "I can call Karissa-talk to her, and see what she's thinking-"

"It's fairly obvious what she's thinking," Brian said, with a snap, flicking the papers down.

"I don't think talking to her is going to change her mind," Adam said.

"You don't know that," I went on. "She might listen to me-"

"Harlie," Adam interrupted, "No."

I stopped talking, and met Adam's gaze across the table.

"Did she give you any idea at all that she was going to do something like this?" Hannah asked me.

"No!" I said. I couldn't believe Hannah was asking me that! "I would have told her what I thought if she had!"

I stood up, agitated beyond belief. "This is crazy!"

"Sit down, peach," Brian told me.

I sat down again, sighing.

"I don't understand why she would do this," I went on. "It doesn't make any sense."

"When has she ever made any sense?" Brian said darkly.

"What do the papers say?" I asked.

"Just that she's filed a petition for custody. Once we have a lawyer, then our lawyer will talk to her lawyer. We'll know more then," Adam said.

"And then what?" I asked.

"There's probably going to be a hearing," Crane said.

"A hearing?" I asked, feeling my heart jump. "Is that like a trial?"

"No, it's not like a trial," Crane said. "It usually only has the people involved there. It's smaller. No jury."

"Oh," I said, in a small voice. I bit at my lip.

For a few moments, nobody said anything at all. Crane reached over, and took my hand, squeezing it.

His hand was big, and warm, and comforting.

"We'll get it all figured out," Adam said. He gave me a smile, but it was a forced smile. It didn't reach his eyes.

He stood up, and Brian did, too, and they started talking about sorting the calves, so they could be weaned from their mothers.

Adam gave Hannah a quick kiss on the cheek, and then walked behind my chair. He let his hand rest for a moment on the back of my

head. And then he went out, followed by Brian. Guthrie got to his feet, too, looking as though he was stunned.

"Need a snack?" Hannah asked him.

"No, ma'm," Guthrie said. He hesitated, looking at me. "Guess I'd better get outside to help with the calves." And he was gone.

Clare gave a sigh, and then got up, clearing the cups from the table and carrying them to the sink, where she began running water.

"We could use your help, too," Crane told me quietly, giving my hand another squeeze.

"I just don't understand this," I said.

"Come on," he said, standing up, and pulling me up.

"It'll do you good to be outside in the sunshine," Hannah said, in a forced cheery voice.

I shook my head, feeling suddenly as though I was going to burst into tears. I pulled my hand from Crane's, and ran out the

back door. I could hear Brian calling to me, asking me where I was going. But I didn't stop, I just kept running. I ran all the way to the

creek. I was totally out of breath by the time I got there, and my ankle was hurting. I found a grassy spot to sit down.

I tossed rocks into the water, and finally, I laid back on the ground, looking up thru the trees at the sun. I don't know how long I stayed

there, but I knew it was getting on to be late afternoon. I'd gotten up and poked thru the weeds at the side of the creek, looking for wildflowers.

I was sitting down near the edge of the water, on a log, weaving the flowers together in a wreath, when I heard someone coming thru

the grass up above.

"Harlie!"

"Down here!" I hollered back.

Adam appeared at the top of the hill, and then came down, sitting down on the log beside me.

I waited, but he didn't say anything at first. So I was silent, too. He picked up a handful of pebbles, and began sending them

skipping across the water.

"Where's the old boat?" he asked, after awhile, speaking for the first time since he'd sat down.

"Huh?"

"The canoe. I haven't seen it for awhile."

"Oh. It's got a big hole in it. I think the boys put it up on the bank further down," I told him.

Adam nodded, and sent another rock skipping. "You missed lunch," he said.

"Sorry."

I turned to study his face, trying to read his mood, without being obvious about it.

"I don't know why she would think I'd want to live with her," I said. "I can't figure it out."

"Yeah," Adam said, in agreement, looking thoughtful.

"After we get a lawyer, then what happens?" I asked.

"He'll talk to us, to you, and get our side of things. Then he'll talk to Karissa's lawyer, and then come back and we'll talk some

more. They'll figure out a case."

"So the lawyers figure it out?" I asked.

"A judge will make a decision."

I wrinkled my forehead in thought. "But it's really a waste of time. Right? Won't the court be upset by her bringing up such a silly case?"

Adam skipped another rock. Then he turned, and scooted backwards, changing position to straddle the log, so that he was

totally facing me.

"I don't think you're understanding this, sugar." He sighed. "This is serious. It's big. It's not silly."

"When I tell them, though, that I don't want to live with her, won't that be the end of it?" I looked at Adam hopefully.

"We can hope so," Adam said, but it had taken him too long to answer, and I felt a knot of fear begin inside.

7


	46. Breakfast talk

The rest of the weekend passed in sort of a haze for me. On Sunday I had every intention of begging off of going to church. I

just didn't think I could manage to sit still, and appear to be listening to Pastor Curry's sermon, when I had so many thoughts

running thru my head. Besides, I needed to do something important. When I went downstairs to breakfast, dressed

in tattered jeans and sweatshirt, Hannah stopped pouring orange juice in glasses to turn and give me her full attention.

"You're not dressed," she said. "Hurry up. We're running late today."

"I'm dressed," I said, casually, picking up my filled glass, and taking a drink of juice.

"Now, Harlie," Hannah said, giving me her 'mom eye'.

"I've got homework."

"Which you can do later today," Hannah pointed out.

"I wouldn't be able to keep my mind on anything Pastor Curry says," I pointed out.

"You can try," Hannah said. She had her stubborn look on.

"Please, Hannah? I have stuff to do," I said.

"Not riding, Harlie," Hannah said, sounding distressed as the thought occurred to her. "If you're thinking of horseback riding, with that cast on,

you can think again, because that is not an option. Especially with no one at home. If you were to fall-"

Adam, who'd been standing there listening to the two of us, poured a cup of coffee, and then took a drink.

"Besides homework, what did you have in mind to do if you stayed home?" he asked me casually.

I considered playing dumb, or simply avoiding the question, but I straightened my shoulders, and met his look eye to eye.

"You already know," I said.

"Then say it straight-out," he challenged me.

"I'm going to call and leave Karissa a message. I've been thinking since yesterday what I want to say to her, and I want to do it while

the house is quiet," I said, with determination.

"I don't think you should do that," Hannah protested. "Do you think she should?" she asked, looking at Adam.

"I don't think it's a real good idea, no," Adam said, and took another drink of his coffee.

Into the moment of silence, I said, "I think if I say the right thing to her, she'll drop this whole idea."

"I think you're wrong, Harlie," Hannah said. "I don't think she has any plans to drop it, no matter what you would say. She's-"

Hannah hesitated, and I was horrified to see her eyes fill with tears. "She's not a rational woman!" She turned her head, and

busied herself pulling toast out of the toaster, and putting more slices of bread in.

I went immediately to Hannah's side, putting my arm around her waist. "Don't cry, Hannah! Please."

Hannah took a deep breath, and I could tell she was trying to get control of her emotions.

"This whole thing is just-" she waved her hands, searching for the right words, "just unfathomable!"

Now I felt like crying, too. And apparently, Adam could tell that. Like most men, he didn't want two emotional females on his

hands. He stepped closer, and set his cup of coffee on the table. He wrapped one arm around Hannah, and the other arm around

me.

"There's no point in getting all worked up like this," he said. "Once we talk with a lawyer, I think we'll all feel better."

Hannah nodded, wiping at her eyes. "You're right."

She looked at me. "Please get changed and come to church, Harlie."

"Okay," I agreed, reluctantly. I didn't want to go, but I couldn't deny Hannah when she looked so upset.

"I need to get Isaac dressed," Hannah said. "Will you finish pouring the juice, hon?"

"I can manage that, I think," Adam said wryly.

Hannah went up the back stairs. Adam still had his arm around my shoulders, and as I sighed, saying, "Guess I'll go get

dressed, then," he hooked both arms around the back of my neck, turning me so that I was facing him, standing close.

"I don't want you to call Karissa, Harlie," he said, looking serious.

"I'll just leave her a message. I won't actually talk to her," I explained.

"I don't want you to do that, either."

"But, why?" I protested.

"At this point, the less said to her, the better."

"What does that mean?" I asked, impatiently.

"Anything you say from here on out to her, well, that's like fueling the fire. It could make things worse. I don't want that to happen."

"I don't want to make things worse," I said, to the center of his chest.

"Look at me," he ordered, and I did, meeting his eye.

"Hear what I'm saying. Trust me on this. I'm old, and I know a thing or two," Adam said.

I shook my head at his teasing. "You're not so old," I said.

"Thank you," he said, with a faint smile.

For a moment we regarded each other in silence.

I wanted to argue that I knew Karissa better than he did. That I could talk to her. Convince her that this whole thing was

lunacy. But before I could put any of that into words, Adam said, "I can almost see the wheels in your mind turnin'."

I could hear brothers heading towards the kitchen, making lots of noise. I attempted to dislodge myself from

Adam's hold, but he wouldn't let go. I looked back at him again.

"I do not want you to call her. Got it?" he restated.

His tone was firm. Unchangeable. His mind was made up.

"I guess," I sighed, unhappily.

As Evan and Guthrie charged into the kitchen, followed by Crane, Adam said, "Try again," to me.

I met his eye, and said, more respectfully, "Yes, Adam."

He turned me loose, and smacked the seat of my jeans.

"Much better," he said.

7

On Monday morning at the breakfast table, I was hit by another dose of reality that had not yet occurred to me.

That being, that lawyers cost money. Lots of money.

It started when Crane was giving Guthrie and I money for school lunches for the week. After that, in the flurry of everybody

eating, and talking over one another, the subject of the water bill came up.

More specifically, who it was that was using too much water in the house.

"You kids seriously need to watch how long of a shower you're taking," Crane was saying. "The water bill is thru the roof ridiculous."

"It's not me," Guthrie protested, around his bite of waffle.

"It's sure as heck not me," Evan said. "There's never enough hot water, no matter when I try to take one."

As accusing eyes came to rest on me, I shook my head. "Not me, either. I'm in and out, seven minutes tops."

"Seven minutes!" Evan hooted, as if that was the most outrageous thing he'd ever heard. "It would take seven minutes or longer just for

you to get that mass of hair wet. Not to mention all the time it takes to shampoo it, and then rinse it."

I gave him a haughty glare across the table. "You sure seem knowledgeable about hair care. Maybe you could pick up some

work at Frieda's Hair Shack."

Instead of getting mad, Evan just laughed, and went back to eating his waffles.

"Everybody just needs to make an effort to shorten up shower time," Crane went on.

"While we're on the subject of wasting money," Brian interjected, "what's up with leavin' on all the downstairs lights? We came down this mornin'

and every light was on. Somebody had a midnight snack, and forgot to turn the lights off."

"That was NOT me," Guthrie said.

"Me, either," I added.

"That might actually have been me," Clare spoke up. "I came down to get some milk. I might have left some lights on."

Guthrie snickered. "Now you're in trouble, Clare," he said, with a grin.

"I'm sorry," Clare said, looking properly contrite.

"All I'm doing is suggesting that we all try to watch it, as far as the utilities go," Crane said.

Adam, who'd been silent up until now, spoke up. "We can all do that. Right, kids?" he asked Guthrie and I.

"Yep," Guthrie said.

"Okay," I agreed.

Adam turned his gaze onto Clare, and said teasingly, "You too, Clare. Right?" He grinned at Clare.

"Yes, big brother," Clare told him, and smiled back at him.

It was light-hearted, and fine, and not really a lecture about wasting money. That was, until they began to talk about names of

lawyers, and who was going to call, and how much the initial consultation might cost.

"I've heard about John Tetwiler," Brian was saying. "He's supposed to be real good."

"I thought he specialized mostly in divorce cases," Crane offered up.

"Family law, I'm pretty sure," Brian told him.

"He's high-priced, I've heard," Adam put in.

That's when I started feeling a knot again in my stomach. I put my fork down, and pushed my plate away, still half-unfinished.

"What's wrong?" Hannah asked me.

"Nothing. I've got to gather up my stuff for school," I said, and left the table. I went into the living room, and started shoving my books

that were on Crane's desk into my backpack. My eyes were caught, and rested on the open phone book, turned to attorneys in the

Modesto area. A couple of the ads had been circled.

I slung my backpack over my shoulder, and went out onto the front porch, where I sat down on the top step, gathering Clarence up into

my arms. As fat as he is, Clarence groaned as I hoisted him up.

I heard the screen door squeak behind me. Hoping it was Guthrie, so we could get going, I turned to look. It wasn't.

I turned back, and went back to petting Clarence.

Adam sat down beside me. He reached over to scratch Clarence behind his ear.

"You didn't eat much," he said.

I shrugged, not answering.

"You alright?" he asked me.

"Just dandy," I said, and pressed my face into Clarence's fur.

"I know that's not the truth," Adam observed dryly.

I shrugged again.

"The breakfast table isn't the place for us to be discussing things like lawyers, and such," Adam said. "We weren't thinkin', I guess."

"It has to be talked about. At breakfast is just as good a time as any," I said, feeling the worry inside, and trying to sound casual and

brave.

"No," Adam said, in disagreement, and I turned to look at him.

"We'll keep those conversations to ourselves from now on," he said.

"That's not right, though," I objected. "It affects me. I should know what's going on. Who the lawyer is, and all of that."

"You'll know the lawyer, once we decide on one. But there may be some things that you don't need to know," Adam said.

Guthrie chose that moment to come charging out of the house, letting the door slam shut behind him.

"Ready, Har?" he demanded, as he took a bite of a muffin.

"I've been ready," I said, and put Clarence down, and stood up.

I was readjusting my backpack onto my shoulder, as Adam got to his feet, too.

"Hey, now," he said, catching at my arm. "We're gonna get thru this."

"I don't know," I said, doubtfully, feeling as though I wanted to cry.

"Harlie," he said, sounding sad at my doubt.

"I mean it. Karissa is used to getting what she's wants. Even in the journal, Mama wrote about how-" I searched for the right

words. "How hard she was. She decides on something, and she gets it!"

"We have a little bit of stubbornness around here, too, you know," Adam said. "Remember?"

"Yes, I know," I said. "But-"

Guthrie, who'd been hanging back, listening to Adam and I talk, now said, "Look, sorry, but we need to get goin'."

"I'm ready," I told him.

"Have a good day," Adam said.

"I'll try," I managed.

7


	47. An animal of the first-class type

I didn't sleep well Monday night, so Tuesday morning at breakfast, I was quiet and poured myself a huge cup of coffee. I sat down at

my place at the table, eating and drinking my coffee, aware of Hannah's eyes on me.

I met her gaze, and was struck by the tired look around her eyes. I wasn't the only one who hadn't slept well.

"Did you get your homework finished?" she asked me, making an attempt at normal conversation.

I knew that what was uppermost in her mind was the same thing as mine. Which was those court papers.

I hadn't done hardly any of my homework. I just hadn't been able to concentrate on most of it. But I wasn't going to say so.

I shrugged. "I didn't have much," I said.

Guthrie gave me a sideways glance at that comment. He knew very well that it wasn't the truth. But he wouldn't call me out on it. At least

not until we were alone.

After breakfast, when Guthrie and I were gathering up our books and backpacks to head out to school, Adam came into the living room, coffee

in hand, to give us his standard morning sendoff.

"You kids have a good day," he said.

"Okay," Guthrie said, pausing at the door to wait for me.

I put my backpack over my shoulder, and looked up at Adam.

"Are you calling a lawyer today?" I asked.

"Most likely, we will today, yeah."

"Which one?" I asked.

"I don't think we've decided on a certain one yet."

"Oh." I thought for a moment. "Do we have enough money for a lawyer?"

"I don't want you to worry about that," Adam said.

I gave him a 'you're kidding' type of look. "How can I not worry?" I asked.

"Alright," he conceded. "I know you're going to worry. Nothing to be done about that. But as far as the money end of it goes, that's the one thing

I don't want you to worry about."

I knew no matter what I said, he would keep to his 'don't worry' comments, so I just sighed, and walked to the door to join Guthrie.

"Have a good day," Adam said again, walking behind us.

"I don't think that's even a remote possibility," I said glumly. I was almost down the front steps by then, and when Adam said,

"Hey."

I turned to look back at him.

"Have a good day, Harlie Marie," he said, yet again. This time his voice was stronger, more firm. That, and the added effect of my full

name, and so I said, "I'll try."

"Good enough," he said, and gave me a half-smile.

7

I couldn't concentrate in my classes. I tried. I did. But it was like the teachers were all talking in that weird voice that the teacher

uses on the Charlie Brown specials. 'Blak, blak, blak'.

On Wednesday, I got a test back from the day before in Biology. It had a huge red D written at the top. In the truck, on the way home,

I tossed it across the seat towards Guthrie. He picked it up and gave it a quick glance, while keeping his eyes on the road in front of him.

"I thought you were doin' good in this class," he said, laying it back in the seat.

"I was."

"Test was hard, huh?" he asked, and I thought how sweet he really was. Giving me the benefit of the doubt. Always.

"It wasn't that bad. I just didn't study."

"Oh," Guthrie said, and gave me a thoughtful glance. "How come?"

"I can't concentrate. I even got a bad grade on a phycology quiz."

Guthrie nodded, but he didn't say anything.

"Today's the day that they were going to talk to the lawyer," I reminded him.

"I remember," Guthrie responded, and I realized that he didn't need to be reminded. "I'm worried about it, too, you know," he added gruffly.

"Okay. You don't have to bite my head off," I told him.

"I didn't," he denied.

For a few minutes we rode in silence.

"Sorry I snapped at ya," he offered, after a bit.

"It's okay."

"It's just-" he hesitated. "This isn't just affecting you. Adam's really shook. And Crane's not talkin' hardly at all. And it's tearin' Hannah up, you can

tell."

"I know," I said.

"If Karissa just hadn't come around at all-everybody would have been better off," Guthrie said, in what was for him, an angry voice.

I agreed. Well, mostly I did. But I was tired from my lack of quality sleep, and scared of what was going to happen, and so I turned to Guthrie and said in a huff,

"And it's my fault, right?" I accused him.

"Did I say that?" he countered.

"You didn't have to say it," I said, focusing my attention on the view out of my window.

We'd turned into our driveway, when Guthrie spoke up again.

"You don't wanna go live with her, do you?" he asked.

I turned to look at him in disbelief. I was so hurt that Guthrie would even ask me such a thing that I couldn't even answer at first.

Once Guthrie had come to a stop, I opened my door, picked up my backpack, and said, without even looking at Guthrie at all, "I thought you were

a really smart guy. I was sure wrong about that."

And with that, I got out, slamming the truck door hard, and stomped into the house.

7

That night, after supper, I went upstairs to take a shower. I came out and went to my bedroom, curling up on my bed with a book. It's what

Crane would call a 'nonsense novel'. One of those historical romance books.

After a few minutes, when it was nearly six, there was a tap on my door.

"Come in," I said.

Crane opened the door, and stood in the doorway.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey."

He took in my appearance, laying on my bed, in fuzzy pajamas, and my hair still wet from the shower.

"What's up?" he asked me.

I knew what he meant, but I answered as though I didn't.

"Not much," I said.

Crane frowned a little, and came on into my room.

"Isn't class tonight?" he asked, coming over to stand beside the bed.

I knew that he knew that it was, indeed, class night."

"I didn't think that I'd go tonight," I told him.

"How come?" he asked.

I knew if I told him the real reason, which was that I just didn't give a rat's ass about class at this particular moment, that he would

be displeased, and give me the look that I hate. So I said, vaguely, "I have a sort of a headache."

"Yeah?" he asked, laying a hand on my forehead. "You're not warm."

"It's just a headache," I said.

"Did you eat junk today?" he asked, referring to my penchant for eating candy, which in turn causes my blood sugar level to skyrocket.

"No."

When he stood there, just looking down at me, all quiet, I said, defensively, "I didn't. I haven't had a candy bar in forever."

"What's really going on?" he asked.

I sighed. Honestly. I think all of my brothers could have had careers in law enforcement, where they interrogate people and get them to confess

to things.

Brian could be the scary one, but Crane would be the one that just sat there, silent, his eyes never wavering from the suspect across the

table.

"I just don't feel like going tonight," I admitted.

"Did you get that essay done?" he asked.

"Yes. I got it done. And it's darn good, too."

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Yes. That's not the reason I don't want to go. I just-" I hesitated. "I'm tired. I haven't really been sleeping very good."

For the first time in the conversation, Crane's expression softened. "Yeah."

We looked at each other for a couple of moments, and then he said, "Okay. This time. You'd better do lights out early tonight. Try to get some

rest."

"I will."

He left then, but he was back within twenty minutes, setting a glass of warm milk on my nightstand.

When I thanked him, he just said, "You're welcome. Make sure you drink it before it gets cold."

7

Our drive to school the next morning began as silently as the ride home the day before had ended.

The radio was turned up, loud, and Waylon Jennings was singing about "Luckenbach, Texas."

Without warning, Guthrie reached over and snapped the radio off.

"I don't wanna fight," he said.

"Me, either," I agreed. And I meant it. Fighting with Guthrie is rare, but when it happens, it shakes the core of my life. And that core was already

unsteady enough right now, thanks to Karissa and her court papers.

"Even though you called me stupid," Guthrie added.

"I did not," I denied.

Guthrie reached for his always-nearby pack of Juicy Fruit gum, and unwrapped a piece, popping it into his mouth.

"I just don't see how you could even ask me what you did," I told him. I could still feel the remnants of the hurt his question had caused.

Guthrie held out the pack of gum to me, offering me some.

I shook my head in refusal.

When he didn't reply, I spoke up again. "How could you ask me that, Guth?"

"It was just a question."

"No. A question is like 'what do you want for dessert?' or 'what's the high temperature today?'. Those are questions. When you ask me whether I want to

go live with somebody I hardly know-away from everything and everybody that I love-" my voice trailed off, and I swallowed past the lump in

my throat.

"I'm sorry, Har," Guthrie said. "I didn't mean to hurt ya."

That much, I knew, was the truth. "I know you didn't," I conceded. "But how could you even think it for a minute?"

"I just thought maybe-she could do a lot for you that the family can't really do," Guthrie explained.

"Let me ask you something," I said, turning towards him in the truck seat. "Suppose it was you. Would YOU want to go live somebody else? Even if it

was somebody you really liked, and they were going to take you places and maybe even buy you a motorcycle or other stuff?"

Guthrie shook his head at me in denial, and I sat back against the seat.

"Well, that's how I feel, too," I said.

"I'm glad," Guthrie said. "That you don't wanna go, I mean." He gave me a half-grin. "I'd miss your hyena laugh."

"You'd probably get into all sorts of trouble if I wasn't around to keep an eye on you," I said, giving him a grin in return.

"Oh, yeah?" Guthrie scoffed.

The school was within eyesight, and I started to pick up my backpack.

"I just wanna say one thing," Guthrie said, and I looked at him expectantly.

"What?" I asked.

"Maybe you could say somethin' to Adam. And Brian, too. Say what you just told me, I mean."

"Why?" I asked, genuinely puzzled.

"So they know, too. Know that you don't wanna go. That you think what they do for you is fine. That you're not dissatisfied."

"They know that, Guthrie!" I was again shocked by what he was saying.

"Well, probably they do," Guthrie allowed. "But I bet they'd like to hear it, anyway."

7

Mr. Fornelli called on me twice in Biology class, before I heard him, and snapped back to attention.

"I didn't hear the question. I'm sorry," I said.

"It's alright, Harlie," Mr. Fornelli said, and then repeated the question to Miriam Stover. Who answered quickly. And correctly. And then she

promptly turned to smirk at me.

I was embarrassed, and tried to pay attention the rest of the class hour.

Math class didn't go much better for me. I took a test without much confidence that I would do well. At lunchtime, it was warm enough outside

that kids were gathering at the tables to eat in the sunshine.

As I carried my tray outside, I saw Lori waving at me, and made my way over to her table.

"Want to go over there to sit with Chelsea and the other girls?" she asked me, as she pointed out another table full of girls in our class.

"No. I want to talk to you about something in private," I told her.

"Okay," she said, and we leaned in closer together. "What's up?"

"Remember when you told me about your cousin? The one whose parents were getting divorced?"

"Oh. Yeah. You mean Caro," Lori said, taking a bite of apple.

"Yeah. Didn't you tell me that the judge told her parents that Caro could decide who she wanted to live with, since she was 13?"

"Um, yeah," Lori said, looking thoughtful. "Something like that."

"So twelve is the age when the minor has something to say about the court's decision?" I asked her.

"I don't know. I think it depends on the individual case or something," Lori said.

"Oh," I said, feeling dejected.

"Why?" Lori asked.

"Promise me you won't say anything," I told her, and once she'd promised, I told her briefly what was happening. Lori's eyes widened,

and she looked horrified. "Oh, Harlie," she said, in sympathy. "That's just awful!"

"Yeah, it is," I said glumly, and suddenly the food on my tray looked totally unappealing. I nibbled at the roll, but left the rest of it.

"What are you going to do?" Lori asked me.

"I'm not sure. I'm thinking of some plans."

The late lunch bell was ringing, and we both stood up.

"Let me know if you need me to help," Lori offered.

"Thanks, Lori," I said, with a sigh.

7

It was the last hour of the day when I had an idea. After school I climbed into Guthrie's truck, waiting impatiently until he

came out of the school, horsing around with Trent and some of the other guys.

As soon as he got in and slammed his door, I wasted no time.

"I need to stop at the library," I told him.

"Now?" he asked me.

"Yes, now."

"Why didn't you get what you needed from the school library?" he asked.

"Because the school library isn't going to have what I need," I said him.

"What do you need?" he asked, and I told him.

"Okay," Guthrie said, looking thoughtful. "I guess that's a good idea."

So when Guthrie stopped in front of the library, I got out quickly, intent on my mission. Guthrie tagged along behind me, as we

wandered up and down the shelves of books. After a few minutes without any success, Guthrie said he was going to ask the librarian.

When the librarian came around the corner, it happened to be Lila, who Crane had dated for quite a while.

"Hi," Lila said, friendly. "Guthrie says you're wanting a book on law?"

"Yes," I told her.

"Well, what specific sort of law?" she asked me.

"Family law, I guess." I hesitated, not wanting to give out too much information.

"Oh, those are over this way," Lila said, and motioned for Guthrie and I to follow her.

When she reached another aisle, she reached up and took down a book. A really, really large book. Which was also extremely heavy.

"I think this might be what you're wanting," Lila said, handing it me.

I told her thank you, and Guthrie and went out, climbing back into the truck.

"She's nice," Guthrie observed.

"Yeah. She is," I agreed.

"I wonder what happened with her and Crane," Guthrie considered, starting the motor.

"Who knows?" I said. I couldn't focus on anything else but the book I was holding.

"It's gonna take a year to read thru that book," Guthrie said.

"I'm not going to read all of it, silly," I told him. "Only the parts about custody cases."

Once at home, Guthrie headed to the kitchen for his customary after-school snack, and I took the heavy book of law up to my bedroom.

I changed my clothes, and sat down to leaf through the pages. I got involved in reading, and before I knew it, I heard my name being

hollered from the bottom of the stairs.

I went out to the top of the stairs. Brian was leaning on the bannister at the bottom.

"Have you forgotten something?" he asked.

"What?" I asked him.

"Chores?" he prompted. "Those things that you're supposed to do every day, right after you get home from school?"

"Sorry," I told him. "I'll be down as soon as I put on my boots."

"Uh huh," he said drily.

I went back to yank on my cowboy boots, and went outside to start on my chores. After I fed Elwood P. Dowd and his two wives, I turned them

back out into the pasture, and went to start cleaning the stalls.

After a few minutes, Evan wandered into the barn, and began to help, grabbing a rake, and working in the stall next to the one I was in.

"Want to take in a movie with Nancy and me?" he offered.

"When?" I asked, stopping to look over at him.

"Tonight. After supper."

"I'd like to," I told him. "Thanks." The thought of escaping from my worried thoughts into a movie was really appealing.

Evan nodded, and we both went back to mucking the stalls.

After a few minutes, I spoke up, "Evan, what do you think of this whole thing?"

Evan didn't pause his work, as he said, "I think there's a lot of other things that I'd rather be doing than mucking stalls, that's what."

I stopped to lean on my rake, watching him. "Ev," I said, in reproval. I waited.

Evan looked at me, and sighed. "Just tryin' to lighten things up, Har," he said.

"I know," I told him. "And I appreciate it. But I want to know what you think."

"Well," Evan said, looking thoughtful, "I don't see how she can really have a case. It doesn't make any sense to me."

"Me, either," I said. I hesitated. "I'm still scared, though." Tears filled my eyes, and I turned away a little, wiping my face.

A few long moments went by, and then I heard Evan sigh again. And then he came around the corner of the stall, into mine.

"Don't cry, Har," he said.

"I'm trying to stop," I said, brushing at my cheeks.

"You're a mess," Evan said. "You should see your face." He ran a work-glove covered thumb over my cheek. "I'll finish up in here. You

go on and take a shower, so you're ready to hit the movie. I can't take you out lookin' like this."

"Thanks, Ev," I said.

"You're welcome. Go on."

I was at the barn door when he said, "Hey," and I turned back to look at him.

"You asked me what I thought, right?" he asked.

"Right."

"Well, what I really think is this. Karissa is a first class heifer."

I couldn't help the giggle that escaped me. "You're bad, Ev."

"If she goes to the sale barn, they might run her through the ring, and sell her at a penny a pound," Evan added.

I smiled at him thru my wet eyes.

"You're a good brother," I said, feeling grateful.

"Was there ever any doubt of that?" Evan asked, and grinned at me.

Credit for the "first class heifer" comment goes to faithful reviewer and part-time comedian Neenee75! Thanks!


	48. Names for a brother

Evan and Nancy and I ended up going to see "Three Men and a Baby" with Tom Selleck. Afterwards, we went to the pizza parlor.

When we walked in, it was really crowded.

"Everybody must have had the same idea as we did," Nancy said.

"No kidding," Evan agreed. He pointed to the very back of the restaurant, near the kitchen doors. "There's a table back there."

He led the way, and Nancy and I followed along behind him. Once we seated at the tiny table, we were all kind of squashed together.

"Close quarters," Evan offered.

"Packed in like sardines," Nancy added.

We placed our order and the waitress brought our drinks. While we were waiting for the pizza, we talked about the movie.

Nancy was asking Evan what he thought of it.

"It was alright," Evan said. "Sort of a chick movie."

"It was not," Nancy told him. "What did you think, Harlie?"

"It was funny. I liked it."

Nancy regarded me across the table, and said, with what I considered to be sisterly candor, "You're too thin. Again."

"I'm not too thin," I denied, half-heartedly.

"That's your opinion," she said. "Evan thinks you're too thin, too. Don't you, babe?"

Evan took a drink of his Coke, and sized me up. "You're skinny," he said. "Your hair weighs more than the rest of you."

I stuck my tongue out at him. "I can eat more pizza than the two of you put together," I informed them.

"Challenge accepted," Evan said.

"You look good," Nancy said, continuing with the conversation, "It's just that you should gain a little weight."

I was tired of this particular topic. "You know what?" I told her. "You talk just like a sister."

Nancy smiled at me, looking satisfied. "Oh. Do I?" She reached over to take Evan's hand, and they both sat there, smiling at each other.

"What's up with you two?" I asked. "You're both acting goofy."

"That's love," Nancy said. Evan looked embarrassed but he was still grinning.

"Hmm," I said. "Well, Evan's okay, I guess. If you happen to like somebody opinionated, and full of stubbornness."

"Look who's talkin'," Evan said. "You've got me beat with all of that."

7

One of the boys in my homeroom class asked me to go out Friday night. His name was Steve Yager, and he was relatively new

to our school. He'd caught me at my locker between classes, and asked me.

"I know it's short notice," he told me. "But I was hoping you could go."

I changed my books, leaving my English book in the locker. "It sounds fun," I told him. "Can I call you and let you know? About five or so?"

"Oh. Sure." He wrote down his number on a piece of notebook paper from his binder.

"Thanks," I said, and gave him what I thought to be a dazzling smile. I don't know why I was flirting this way. It's not typical of me, really.

My smile must have been pretty good, because Steve looked a little startled, and then turned red in the face.

"Great. Thanks a lot, Harlie. "

I gave him a breezy wave, and went on to my next class. It was the last hour of the day, when I noticed that I was a little shaky.

It was, I was fairly sure, from my poor eating lately. I hadn't been eating much at lunch all week at school. It seemed like my stomach

was always in a knot, worrying about the whole situation with Karissa.

On the way home, I began rummaging thru Guthrie's glove compartment.

"Hey," he protested, as I tossed things into the seat. "What are you lookin' for?"

"A granola bar. Or something."

"I don't have any in here," he told me.

"Fine," I said, sitting back in the seat, and closing my eyes.

"You sick?" he asked me.

"Nope."

"I can stop at the store to get somethin' for ya," he offered.

"It's okay. Just go on home."

I kept my eyes closed until I realized that the truck had stopped. When I opened my eyes, we were in front of the grocery store.

"I told you that you didn't need to stop!" I snapped at him.

Guthrie ignored me, and got out, disappearing into the store. When he came back out, he was carrying a small sack, which he set

in the middle of the seat.

"I got a couple of different things," he told me, as he started the motor. "I didn't know what would be better for ya."

"I told you that you didn't need to stop," I said, again. I was being hateful, and I knew it. And to Guthrie, of all people! But I couldn't seem

to stop myself.

"I know what you told me," Guthrie said, looking in his rearview mirror, and then pulling back out onto the street.

I hesitated, and then reached for the sack. Guthrie had gotten a couple of different types of candy bars. And a box of granola bars, too. The chewy kind

that are my favorites. I felt easy tears threatening.

"I'm sorry I'm being so mean, Guth," I said, as I unwrapped one of the granola bars.

"The mood monster," he mumbled.

"What?" I asked him.

"I said, 'the mood monster'," he repeated. "You get like this whenever you need to eat somethin'."

"Thank you, Dr. McFadden," I said, but my words held no sting.

"You're welcome. I'll bill you," Guthrie said.

I ate one of the granola bars, and half of a candy bar. I began to feel better.

"You gonna eat the Hershey's bar?" he asked me.

"No," I said, and Guthrie held out his hand.

I handed him the chocolate bar.

When I told him about Steve asking me out, he wrinkled his forehead in thought.

"I don't know him that well," he said. "He seems alright, though."

"Yeah."

"You gonna go?" he asked me.

"I don't know. I don't think so. I want to do some reading on that law book."

7

When we went into the house, it smelled like cinnamon.

"Hannah's been bakin'," Guthrie said, in approval.

"I'm not hungry now," I said, and went upstairs to change my clothes.

When I came back downstairs, Crane was sitting on one of the couches, looking at a piece of paper. Since it wasn't that common for any of my brothers to be

inside at this time of the afternoon, I was a little surprised to see him there.

"Hi, Crane," I greeted him.

"Hey."

I went to stand beside the couch. "How are you?" I asked, in conversation.

"I'm alright. How are you?" he asked.

"Okay."

"Sit down here a minute," Crane said, gesturing to the spot next to him.

I obligingly sat down beside him. "What's up?" I asked.

"I thought maybe you could tell me," he said, and I looked at him, puzzled.

Crane held out the paper to me, and I took it, opening the fold. My school grades stared back at me. I'd forgotten that it was time for

progress reports from school to be mailed out. The A in English wasn't a surprise. Nor was the B plus in Home Ec. But the C- in pychology was a surprise. C- in algebra. But it was the D- in Biology that caused my heart to sink.

I looked from the paper to Crane's face.

"Not so good, huh?" I said, trying to sound light.

"Nope."

He had that look on his face. The one that I hate. His disappointed look. The one that says I've let him down. It made me want to shrivel up

inside.

"Please don't look at me that way," I said.

"How am I looking at you?" he countered.

"Like I'm a huge disappointment to you." I flung the paper back onto the spot between us.

"I am disappointed," Crane said. He regarded me seriously for a long moment. "What happened?"

"I did bad on a couple of tests."

"Finals," he corrected me.

"Yes. Finals," I admitted.

"Did you study?" he asked me.

"If I say that I did, will you be less ticked off at me?" I countered, and I could hear the sassy tone to my voice. That sassy caused Crane's

eyebrows to go up.

"Knock that off," he told me.

I sighed, in defeat. "Sorry," I mumbled.

"Okay. Now answer my question."

"I studied some." At his unwavering look, I sighed again. "But not much."

"How come?"

"I can't concentrate very well. Ever since this whole stupid thing with Karissa came about!"

"This is a huge deal, alright. I get that you're worried," he said.

I eyed him. "But?" I prompted, knowing that he had more to say.

"But, your whole school career's going to be full of times that there's something big going on in your life. Some good things. Some not so good. If you

drop the ball every time, well, you're not going to be very successful."

I winced at his words. He wasn't holding back.

"Okay," I said.

"Okay, what?" he asked.

"I get what you're saying. I messed up."

When he just looked at me, and didn't say anything, I bit at my lip.

"Now what?" I asked him, tremulously.

"I'd say you have some work to do. Get those grades brought up by the time report cards come out."

I nodded. "Am I grounded?" I asked.

"Do you need to be grounded?" Crane countered. "Or can you promise me to get them up?"

"I promise," I told him.

"Okay, then," he said. He reached over and patted my knee, before he stood up. "See you later," he said, and headed back

outside.

I sat there for a long time, until the churning in my stomach subsided. I absolutely hate it when Crane gets onto me like this.

I went to the kitchen, feeling disgruntled, and grouchy.

"Hi, sweetie," Hannah greeted me, from her spot at the kitchen able, where she was folding baby clothes.

"Hi." I went to take down a glass, and then filled it with water at the sink.

"We're having vegetable soup tonight," she said.

"That's good."

"Sit down here and talk to me," Hannah encouraged, patting the chair next to her.

"I better not," I said glumly. "I'll be in more trouble for not getting my chores done."

Hannah twisted in her chair to look at me. "What's happening?" she asked.

"My grades," I said, figuring that she already knew about it, since the letter would have been addressed to Adam. She'd know, and she'd also

know that even though it came addressed to Adam, it was mostly Crane who kept tabs on our grades. Meting out encouragement, or in my case,

a talking-to.

"Oh," Hannah said in answer, and I could tell that she did know.

"Come on. Sit for a minute," she insisted, and I sighed, sitting down next to her, and sipping at my water.

"Pretty rough, huh?" she asked.

"I hate it when Crane is mad at me," I said, picking absently at a thread on one of Isaac's little shirts.

"Is he angry? Or is he disappointed?" Hannah asked.

"With Crane, him being disappointed is the same as him being angry," I told her.

"Oh." Hannah folded another baby outfit.

Sitting there, I made a sudden decision.

"I have a date tonight," I told her.

"With Kenny?"

"No. A boy named Steven Yager. He's new."

"Do you know him very well?" she asked.

"Not real well," I admitted.

"This isn't really like you, Harlie," Hannah said, looking a little concerned. "Going out with a boy you don't really know, I mean."

"Well, it's a way to get to know someone better. Right?"

"I guess," she said, still looking slightly disapproving.

"I thought you wanted me to go out more," I reminded her. "To parties, and football games, and all of that."

"I do want you to."

"So it's okay then? I told him I'd call him by five to let him know."

"I think you should ask Adam," Hannah said.

"Okay," I conceded.

"Except he called, and he might be late getting home. He's in Stockton at a Cattlemen's Association meeting," she said, snapping her fingers

as she remembered.

Then she said the dreaded, ominous words. "Talk to Brian before you call Steven back."

I groaned. "Nooo."

Hannah smiled a little. "I'm sure Brian will be open to it. It's all in the way you go about it."

"Have you met Brian?" I asked, giving her a disbelieving look.

"A time or two," Hannah said, still smiling. She'd finished her folding of clothes, and stood up, gathering the pile in her arms. "I think he's in the barn,"

she said, before she headed up the back stairs.

I went out to do my chores, and then went back inside, and upstairs to get into the shower, plastic wrapped over my cast to keep it from getting

wet. I had all the wonderful hot water that I wanted, since it was so early, and no one else had claimed a shower yet. I stood under the hot water, shampooing and rinsing my hair two times.

I dressed in my good jeans and a green shirt that Hannah had bought me. I went down to the kitchen, and started setting the table. I thought about

asking Brian about my date, but he and Evan were talking about some fence that had been trampled over, so I chose to bide my time.

"I'm gonna grab a shower real quick before we eat," Evan announced, and went up the back stairs.

I thought of talking to Clare first. She'd be willing to speak up and/or soften Brian up for me.

"Where's Clare?" I asked Brian.

"She's workin' an extra shift at the hospital," Brian said.

"Oh," I said, disappointed. Within the next five minutes, as Hannah was spooning up soup, there was yelling from upstairs.

"Sounds like Evan's out of hot water," Brian said. At first he looked amused, then his expression turned worried. He turned to Crane. "There should

be plenty of hot water," he said. "Maybe the hot water heater's going totally out."

Crane frowned, looking worried too.

To dispel that look of worry on their faces, I offered, "It's still working. I might have used all the hot water."

Both of them turned to look at me.

"All of it?" Brian asked.

"Well, maybe."

For the first time Brian took in my more-dressed-up-than-usual appearance.

"What're you dressed up for?" he asked me.

"I'm not really dressed up," I said, trying to sound casual.

"Harlie has a date," Hannah offered helpfully.

"Well, you look nice, peach," Brian said. "Kenny's a lucky guy."

I gave Hannah a glance, and she nodded at me.

Before I could tell Brian that my date wasn't with the ever-faithful Kenny, Evan stormed down the back stairs, wearing clean jeans and tucking in his

shirt as he walked.

He took in my appearance, and my still-wet hair.

"Are you the one who used all the hot water?" he demanded furiously.

"Your hair's sticking up," I told him, reaching up to push a strand of his hair down flat.

"Quit," he ordered, smacking my hand away. "Maybe you ought to think of somebody besides yourself sometimes, you know that?"

"Don't be such a jerk," I told him, softly. Softly, but he still heard it, because he looked even angrier.

"What did you say?" he demanded.

I knew he'd heard me just fine.

I shrugged, pretending casualness. "You should comb your hair down before it dries like that," I told him. And more quietly, I added, "Egomaniac."

"Maybe so," Evan said, stepping closer to me, menacingly. "And maybe I ought to do somethin' else, too."

I knew a threat when I heard one.

"Geez, Ev," I said. "You don't have to be such a sorehead over some stupid hot water."

"It's time to eat," Hannah interrupted us to say. "Come on, you two."

I started to go to my spot at the table, when Brian caught at my arm. "Apologize," he told me.

I looked at him. "Okay," I said, still feeling rebellious. "I'm sorry for using all the hot water," I said to Evan, my tone not

entirely sincere.

"Not that," Brian said, sounding impatient. "For calling names."

"Which one?" I asked, still feeling sassy. "Jerk? Sorehead? Egomaniac?"

"Harlie," Brian said, his voice at a level five warning.

"I'm sorry, Evan," I said, less sassy and more sincere.

"You know what?" Evan said, looking disgusted. "Never mind."

He went to his chair at the table, and everybody else started sitting down, too.

Before he released my arm, Brian leaned in closer to me, and said, "Let's you and me have a talk after supper."

Was it any wonder that I could hardly eat, or that my stomach was tied up in knots yet again? Gahhh.

7b47b


	49. Guthrie takes charge

After we'd all finished supper, it was well after five. I helped clear the table, but Guthrie and Crane had dishwashing duty.

Evan wasted no time in departing, though I didn't know where he was going. No doubt off to meet up with Nancy. Hannah announced she was

going upstairs to give Isaac a bath.

Brian put a hand on my waist. "Come on, you," he said, and I sighed, following him into the living room.

He sank to the couch, sighing just like I had.

"You look tired," I offered.

"I am tired. We're all tired." He reached down to pull off one of his boots. "I have a question. Why are you being such a pain

in everybody's tailfeathers?"

I felt my face get all hot. "I didn't know I was," I said, my feelings hurt.

"Oh yeah, you did," Brian said, in disagreement, and then pulled off his other boot, letting it drop to the floor.

"I told him I was sorry."

"Aw, but your voice lacked a certain quality of sincerity," Brian said.

I knew that if he was joking like that, that he wasn't really mad. So I smiled at him a little.

"I'll take shorter showers," I offered. "And not call Evan names."

"Fantastic," Brian said. He sank back against the couch cushions, looking up at me. "Now sit down here a minute."

I looked at him skeptically, and he patted the spot beside him. "Right here," he clarified.

I sat down beside him, feeling reluctant. "I thought the lecture was over," I told him.

"No, the lecture is not over," Brian said, pulling me over next to him. his right arm wrapped around the top of my shoulders.

"It must not be a real one," I offered. "Hugging on me isn't usually the way you dole out a lecture."

Brian tapped my nose. "Don't be a smartass."

"How can I help it? I learned from the very best," I told him, enjoying our verbal back and forth.

"True," Brian allowed.

He was quiet for a few minutes, just sitting there, one arm around my shoulders, and with the other hand he wrapped a strand of my

hair around his fingers. Winding it, and then releasing it. Again and again. I was quiet, waiting. I knew he had something he wanted to say.

"You're not sleepin' lately," he said.

"No," I admitted.

"Adam and I feel that John's a good lawyer. He knows his stuff."

I felt my throat tighten at the mention of the subject.

"He'll get this whole thing straightened out," Brian said, sounding confident.

"If you say so."

"Are you doubting me?" Brian asked, tightening his hold, and digging his fingers in my ribs.

I twisted from him tickling me, laughing a little.

When he'd stopped, I turned serious again. "It's not you I doubt, Bri. I just know how Karissa is. She gets her way."

"She's not the one sitting behind the bench, wearing the black robe. She's not going to be able to control

a courtroom," Brian said, sounding definite.

I hadn't thought of it that way. "That's right, isn't it?" I asked him, feeling a little better.

"It's right."

"Okay," I said, leaning against him, and feeling myself relaxing a little.

"So where are you and young Kenny goin' tonight?" he asked.

"Not Kenny. A new boy asked me out."

"Yeah?" Brian asked, raising his eyebrow. "Who?"

"His name's Steven Yager. He's been here about a month."

"Yager, huh? His dad the one that bought the old Stanley ranch?" Brian asked.

"Yeah."

Brian looked thoughtful. "He a nice kid?"

"I think so," I said, and then added, "I don't think he's killed anyone this week, at least."

"Watch it," Brian said, and gave me another dig in the ribs.

After that scuffle, he said, "Well, where's he takin' you?"

"To the movies, he said."

"Hmm. Well, how about this? Maybe tonight you could go to Butch's. Have some pizza, and hang out there. I don't really like

the idea of you driving all over the county with a kid we don't know. If you like him, and he wants to take you out again, then he could come

over here, and we could look him over. And then we could talk about going further than Murphys with him."

"Okay. I'll ask him. And see what he says. He may not want go out with me if he has to follow all those rules," I said.

"Oh, I'm fairly certain that he'll go along with it," Brian said, with a smile.

7

Brian had been right about Steven. He didn't seem to mind the change in plans for the evening. He told me he'd be along soon to pick me up.

When he came, I answered the knock on the door, pulling on my jacket.

By this time, Adam was at home, too, and he said, "Tell him to come inside," to me, as I pulled the front door open.

I ushered Steven inside, and all three of them, Adam, Brian and Crane, too, shook his hand. Steven looked so nervous that I felt

sorry for him.

"Eleven o'clock curfew," Adam said, as we went down the steps.

Steven was shocked by that. I could tell, but he just nodded and said, "Alright."

We got into a little Volkswagon.

"This is my mom's car," Steven explained. "She said I could use it tonight."

"I've never ridden in a Volkswagon before," I told him.

As we drove toward Murphys, he said, "How many brothers do you have?"

"Seven."

"For real?" he asked, looking shocked.

"For real."

"I heard you had a big family, but I had no clue it was that big. Wow."

"It's pretty big, alright," I agreed.

"I can't imagine having that many siblings. I'm the only one in mine."

"The only kid?" I asked him, and as he nodded, I said, "Wow."

He smiled at me. "I guess that's as weird to you as you having seven brothers is to me."

"Yeah, I guess. Didn't you get lonely, when you were growing up?" I asked him.

"Sometimes I did. We've moved around a lot. My dad says we're going to stay put here. So I'm hoping to make some friends

that I can keep for awhile."

"That would be good. I think it would be hard to move around all the time. I've lived here all my life." As I said that, the thought of

the custody thing and all of that came back to the forefront of my mind. I didn't want to leave to go anywhere else. I tried to push the thought back again.

"Your dad's going to try ranching?" I asked him.

"Yeah. He met your brothers the other day. At least a couple of them. I don't know which ones."

"Murphys is a good place to visit and talk to everybody," I agreed.

"He talked to them over at our place, not in town," Steven said.

"Oh," I said, wondering what any of my brothers would have been doing over at a relatively new rancher's house. Brian hadn't mentioned

meeting Steven's dad.

"I guess my dad's going to buy a bunch of your cattle," Steven went on, and he kept on talking, not realizing that I was sitting

there, in surprise and shock.

"I think he said it was Crane," Steven went on, thoughtfully. "Yeah. And Adam, too. Those are the names he mentioned."

"How many cattle?" I asked, feeling strange inside. I hadn't heard any mealtime conversations about selling cattle. The last I'd known, the guys

were planning on keeping all of the cattle that we had, until after the summer calving, at least. That was so there'd be more profit when selling the

cows and the calves. There was only one reason that I could thing of to cause those plans to change. Lawyer bills.

"I don't know for sure how many," Steven said. "Quite a few, though, I think."

"Heifers?" I asked next. "Or bred cows?"

"I'm not sure." Steven gave me a glance across the tiny interior of the Volkswagon. "Are you okay, Harlie?"

"Um, yeah," I said. "I'm fine."

By now we were pulling into Murphys, and there were already a row of cars and trucks lined up in front of Butch's Place.

As we walked inside, there were lots of kids from school there. Guthrie was at a corner pool table, talking to some of his friends. He waved at us,

and I waved back.

We ordered pizza, but I only nibbled at mine. I was so thirsty. All I felt like doing was drinking. I had two large glasses of water.

I was lifting the glass to my lips once, when I realized I was shaking again. The "prickly" feeling was in my hands and my feet. Black spots

in front of my eyes.

Later, when I had to think about it, I had to give Steven credit. He noticed, and leaned forward towards me.

"What's wrong, Harlie?" he asked, sounding concerned.

"I think I need to go outside for some air," I told him, and he immediately got up, helping me thru the throng of kids, and outside. It was dark by now, and

even at that moment, I realized how full of stars that the sky was tonight.

"What's wrong?" Steven asked again. He sounded positively panicked.

I sat down on the top step of Butch's little porch. "I think my blood sugar level is off," I told him.

"What?" he asked, obviously bewildered.

I thought about telling him to grab me my nearly untouched pizza, but at that moment I didn't think that even eating something was going to

make me feel any better.

Time for reinforcements. McFadden style.

"Can you get Guthrie?" I asked him.

"Yeah. Yeah, sure," he said, and disappeared inside.

I leaned my head against the post, and waited, though I know that it was really only a couple of minutes before Guthrie came bursting out of the

building, followed by Trent.

Guthrie crouched down beside me. "What is it?" he asked me.

"I don't feel so hot, Guth," I said.

"Do you need to eat?" he asked.

"Maybe. I don't know-"

"Can you ask Butch if he has any crackers?" Guthrie asked, looking up at Steven. "Like peanut butter crackers? And some juice?"

"Yeah," Steven said, and he was gone again.

"You don't have to do that," I protested feebly. "I could just eat a slice of pizza or something."

Guthrie ignored my protest, and asked Trent to go inside and get a glass of water, and some paper towels.

I shivered and wrapped my arms around myself, rocking back and forth a little. Guthrie stood up, and I caught at the hem of his blue

jeans. "Don't leave, Guth," I protested.

"I'm not leavin'. I'm just gonna grab somethin' out of the truck."

He was back in just a second or two, and wrapped a blanket around my shoulders. The blanket smelled like smoke, and I knew he and Kristin

must have taken it to the bonfire they'd gone to a couple of weekends before.

"He didn't have any crackers," Steven said, appearing behind us.

"It's okay," Guthrie said, and crouched down again, reaching into his shirt pocket to pull out a piece of hard candy. He unwrapped it, and handed it to me.

"Here," he said.

I took it, sucking on the sweet caramel.

When Trent came back out, he handed the glass of water and paper towels to Guthrie.

Guthrie folded the paper towels into a thicker square and dipped the edge in the water a couple of times. Then he held it out to me.

"You want I should do it, or can you?" he asked me.

"I can do it," I told him, and held the cold cloth to my forehead.

"I brought some juice," said another voice from behind us. Guthrie reached out to take the glass.

"Thanks, Butch," he said. And to me, "Drink."

I sipped at the orange juice. Butch, who, after years of eating his own pizzas is as round as he is tall, leaned over to peer at me

in the semi-darkness of the lights streaming from the building, puffing a little from the exertion.

"What can I do?" he asked. "You want me to call your home?"

"No!" I said, at exactly the same moment as Guthrie said, "Yeah."

"No, Guth!" I protested. "It'll just upset everybody-I'll be fine in a few minutes!"

Again, Guthrie ignored my protest. He just kept talking to Butch as though I hadn't said a word at all.

"Can you tell them that Harlie's not feelin' good, and that I'm takin' her over to the emergency room?" Guthrie asked Butch.

"I will do that," Butch said.

"Thanks," Guthrie said. He took the nearly empty glass of orange juice from me and handed it off to Butch.

"Let me know if you need somethin'," Trent was saying to Guthrie.

"I will. Thanks, buddy," Guthrie told him. He stood up, taking my arm to pull me up, too.

"I don't want to go to the hospital," I told Guthrie, as he steered me down the board sidewalk towards where his truck was parked.

Guthrie opened the passenger door, and waited as I climbed in. Just before he shut the door, I said, "Guthrie! Listen! I don't want to

go to the emergency room!"

"You don't have anything to say about it," Guthrie said, calmly enough. But beneath the calmness of his response, I could hear the

intractable steel of the inherited McFadden stubbornness.

I gave up protesting. Besides, I didn't feel well enough to argue with Guthrie. As we were pulling away from Butch's Place, I saw Steven still standing

there, out front, watching with a bewildered look as we drove away.

7


	50. Rice cakes

Once we were driving, on the way to Sonora Regional-Medical Center, I sat back against the seat, quiet.

"Want another piece of candy?" Guthrie asked me.

"No. I'm okay, now."

When he didn't say anything, I said, again, "Guth? I'm okay."

"Good. You're okay. You're still goin' to the hospital." His tone was set, and I knew if I could have been able to see clearly in the darkened truck cab,

that his jaw would be set, too.

"Can you turn on the radio?" I asked, knowing that the music would calm my nerves. Immediately Guthrie turned to a country western station,

where George Jones and Tammy Wynette were singing.

"We're be there in just a few minutes," Guthrie said, and I could hear the worry and fear in his voice, too.

I could tell he wanted me to answer, so I did, trying to sound confident. "That's good."

I closed my eyes, feeling woozy, and when I opened them again, it was because of the bright lights around the hospital entrance.

Once inside, Guthrie told me to sit down in one of the chairs in the waiting room, and he went to the front desk,

I could hear him talking to the nurse there, and I could hear most of her questions.

Guthrie was telling her my name, and my birthdate, and about me having diabetes. He told them that our guardians would be there soon.

I thought of something and went over to stand beside Guthrie.

"Clare might still be here," I told him, in a low voice.

"You want her?" Guthrie asked me, and when I nodded, Guthrie asked the lady behind the counter to get a message to Clare McFadden.

A nurse appeared and told me to come on along with her to a triage room, Guthrie following the nurse and I.

The nurse promptly told me to sit down, and she began to take my blood pressure, and ask questions and all of that.

"We can't actually admit you, or treat you, until we have your parent's permission. But I thought we'd get a few of these things out of the way," the nurse said, in a

overly cheerful voice. Neither Guthrie or I corrected her on the subject of our parents.

"Your blood pressure is good," she added, and began to take the pressure cuff off of my arm.

There was a light tap at the door, and then Clare stuck her head in.

"What's going on?" she asked, coming over to stand beside the hospital bed.

"Feeling weird," I told her.

Guthrie promptly chimed in with all the details.

"My mouthpiece," I said, wryly, as the other nurse listened with interest to our conversation.

"Adam's on the way?" Clare asked us.

"Butch was calling home," Guthrie assured her.

"Alright. Then we'll just sit here and wait for a few minutes," Clare said. She gave me a smile, and sat right beside me on the bed. I felt better

somehow because she was there.

It was only ten minutes longer before the family arrived. I was sipping at a cup of water, when Hannah came into the room, her face lined

with concern.

"I'm okay, Hannah," I said, from habit. It's always been Guthrie and I's way to try to keep Hannah from worrying about us.

"I see how fine you are," Hannah said, giving me a 'mom' look, and coming close.

"Adam's here, right?" Guthrie asked her, and when Hannah nodded, I heard Guthrie heave a sigh. I knew it was a sigh of relief.

"You're off duty now, elephant ears," I told him. "The cavalry has arrived."

Guthrie popped a piece of gum into his mouth without answering me.

The same nurse came back into the room. "We can move on now, to see what's going on with you," she told me. "Your brother signed the permission

forms."

In the midst of my blood sugar level being checked, Adam came into the room. He looked calm, and strong, and that was so reassuring to me

at that moment that I felt a great sense of relief wash over me. Whatever was going on, Adam was there now, so it would all be sorted out.

When he came to stand beside the bed, I was sitting up, and I reached out, and he took my hand.

"Did Brian come?" Clare asked Adam, and he nodded.

"He's out in the waiting room," Adam told her.

"I'll go out and talk to him," Clare said, and gave me a pat on the arm, going out of the room.

"Is her level high?" Adam asked the nurse.

"No. Low. Very low," the nurse answered, and Adam's forehead wrinkled in concern.

"The doctor will be in soon," the nurse said, and went out.

"Are you tryin' to take up permanent residency here?" Adam asked me, lightly, referring, I knew, to my visit of only a couple of weeks before, when I'd

broken my hand.

"It wasn't my idea to come here tonight," I told him. "That was all Guthrie's idea."

"And it was exactly the right idea," Hannah spoke up stoutly, in Guthrie's defense.

For the first time since he'd come in, Adam seemed to take a good look at Guthrie. He stepped away from me, and over to Guthrie.

"You doin' alright, buddy?" he asked, laying a hand on Guthrie's shoulder.

"I'm okay," Guthrie said.

"Thinks he can boss me around," I complained, though I wasn't really serious.

"And that's exactly right, too," Hannah added. "Thank heavens Guthrie was there."

The doctor came into the room. It happened to be the same doctor that had treated me for my broken hand and sprained ankle.

"Well, hello again, young lady," he greeted me, and shook hands with Adam.

He seated himself on the rolling stool. "I understand you're the one who got her here," he said to Guthrie.

"Yes, sir," Guthrie answered.

"Well, it's good that you did that. And giving her the juice, and the candy, those were absolutely the correct things to do," the doctor continued.

Guthrie ducked his head a little, looking embarrassed.

"Harlie's blood sugar level is extremely low," the doctor said, looking at me, and at Hannah and Adam, too. When he looked at his clipboard to read, and

then said what the numbers were, both Hannah and Adam looked shocked, and I felt my stomach knot in fear.

"Oh, my," Hannah said, kind of breathlessly.

"Even with the candy and juice?" I asked.

"Those things no doubt raised it, which is the reason we're fortunate that your brother was so quick to act," the doctor said, gesturing

towards Guthrie. "This evening could have had a very different outcome otherwise."

Hannah sat down in the only available chair, looking so pale that I thought maybe she was going to pass out.

"What we're going to do, is get you some quick carbs, so we can try to raise the level some more," the doctor went on. "We'll keep on eye on it for

a few hours, see how things go."

"And then I can go home?" I asked, fearing I already knew the answer.

"We'll see," the doctor said, non-committedly.

"I don't want to spend the night here," I protested.

"Harlie, hush," Adam said.

The doctor stood up, giving me a look of sympathy. "I understand how you feel. We'll see what we can do. Alright?"

"Alright," I said, though that's not what I thought at all.

When he'd gone, the room was silent for a long few moments.

"Go on out and sit down for awhile," Adam told Guthrie. "Get a breath of air."

"Okay," Guthrie said, so quickly that I knew he was ready to get out of the room.

"Tell Brian to come back," Adam said. "He's probably worn a groove in the floor pacing out there."

"Okay," Guthrie said again.

Before he could make his escape, I spoke up. "I bet Steven is wondering what's going on. We just sort of left him standing there. Can you try

and call him, Guth? Tell him I'm sorry that our date was ruined."

"I'll try and get ahold of him," Guthrie agreed.

The nurse bustled in with a couple of rice cakes and a glass of brown liquid.

"Here we go," she said cheerfully. "Do you like sweet tea?"

I nodded, and she handed me the glass, and set the rice cakes on the tray beside the bed.

"Eat both of those," she said, and went out again.

Hannah stood up, and began unwrapping the rice cakes. They were the plain white kind.

"Here," she said, handing me one of them.

I bit into the rice cake. It tasted just as bad as I remembered from the time that I'd tried one at Lori's house. I swallowed that bite

and drank half of the glass of sweet tea.

"Don't just drink," Adam told me. "Start eatin' that."

I took another bite. "It tastes like cardboard," I said.

"You're wasting eatin' time with complaints," Adam said.

"Do you think I should go call home?" Hannah asked Adam. "Crane's probably worried sick."

"No doubt," Adam said in agreement. "It's probably a good idea to call him."

Hannah left then, and I kept munching on my rice cake. I'd finished all my tea, and it was so hard to swallow the dry rice cake without

something to wash it down that I practically gagged.

Adam took the empty glass and went to the sink to fill it up with water, handing it to me.

I took a long drink, and sighed. "Finally done," I said.

"You've still got another one to eat," Adam reminded me.

"Uugh," I groaned.

Adam sat down on the edge of the bed beside me. He didn't say anything at first. He just started rubbing circles on my

lower back.

I bit determinedly into the second rice cake. Around my chewing, I muttered, "I'm not staying here overnight."

"You'll do whatever the doctor says," Adam said. "And you'll do it without actin' like a spoiled kid."

"I know," I said, "but-"

"No 'buts'," Adam said.

"I've never stayed overnight in a hospital, though," I said, feeling like I wanted to cry.

"I know," he said, still making those comforting circles on my back. "But I'll stay, too."

"You will?" I asked him.

"Of course I will, knothead."

"Okay."

I took another bite of the rice cake, in the middle of chewing when Brian came into the room.

He looked more worried than I could ever remember him looking before.

"Hey, peach," he said, leaning over to kiss the top of my head.

"Hey," I replied.

"Were you feelin' bad when you left the house tonight?" he asked me.

I shook my head. "Not really." When I saw the look on his face, I knew he was thinking of the talk we'd had, sitting on the couch together, and

that he was trying to remember if I'd acted as though I felt badly.

I didn't want Brian feeling guilty about anything, so I hastily tacked on, "I felt fine, Bri."

"You shouldn't have gone out if you were feelin' shobbly," Brian went on, using our family word for a cross between shaky and wobbly.

"I wasn't," I said. I didn't want a lecture.

Brian gave me a long look, and then nodded briefly, sitting down in the available chair.

I finished the stupid rice cake, with relief, and drank down the rest of the water.

"Whoever invented those things should be arrested," I offered.

Neither one of them responded to that, and I sighed, leaning back a little on the propped up pillows.

Adam stood up, stretching as though his back was hurting.

Into the silence of the room, I thought that I might not have a better opportunity, and so I spoke up.

"How come we're selling cattle?"

They both looked at me. I could tell that neither of them was happy about my question. They exchanged a look.

But at least they didn't pretend to not know what I was talking about.

"Where'd you hear about that?" Brian asked me.

"Steven said something about it. That it was his dad who was buying them."

"Hmm," he said to that. He and Adam looked at each other again.

"There's nothing so unusual about selling some cattle," Adam said.

"But you guys said you were going to wait," I reminded them. "Until the calves were born."

"Well, we decided not to wait," Brian said. "That's all."

"That's not it," I said, and Brian raised an eyebrow at me.

"Excuse me?" he asked.

"It's because of the-" I hesitated over the word. "The custody thing. That's it, isn't it? You need the money to pay a

lawyer."

"It's nothing for you to fret about," Adam said.

"Well, that's kind of impossible," I muttered.

The nurse came bustling back in again. "Did we finish our rice cakes?" she asked, in an overly cheery voice.

I wished I could respond with a sarcastic comment that it hadn't been "we" who had been eating the dry, tasteless things. But of course I

didn't do that.

"Yes," I told her.

"Good. We'll be back in just a little while to check your level again, then." She smiled at me, and went back out of the room.

The room was silent again.

"I don't want the cattle to have to be sold because of all this," I said.

Adam sighed a little. "We'll do what we need to do," he said simply. "Period. End of discussion."

I felt my temper flare at that, and I tried to tamp it down, because I knew I would just end up getting myself in trouble if I

got sassy with him.

Hannah came back into the room, and Brian stood up to let her have his chair. She pulled the chair over closer to the bed.

"Crane sends love," she told me, after she sat down.

I nodded, feeling emotional.

"Is Scooter givin' him any trouble?" Adam asked her.

"No. Crane said he ate and then went right to sleep," Hannah said.

When the door opened again, the nurse came in with a plate of pretzels and a big cluster of grapes.

"Here you go," she said. She set the plate down and proceeded to check my blood sugar level again.

"Better?" Adam asked her.

"Better, but not quite what we want to see yet," the nurse said, in the same cheerful tone. I knew it was wrong to feel this way,

but all that cheery demeanor of hers was starting to get on my nerves.

"You eat some of those grapes, and we'll recheck," she said, and left again.

I sank back against the pillows, feeling discouraged. "What's wrong with me!" I burst out.

"Harlie," Adam said. His voice was quiet, but I could the admonishment underneath.

I subsided, trying to keep tears at bay.

"You are going to be fine," Hannah said, sounding confident and firm. "Now eat your grapes."

I began to eat the grapes with a fierce diligence, determined that I was going to go home that night.

"At least they taste better than rice cakes," I said.

"Way to look for the silver lining, sugar," Adam said.

7


	51. Three o'clock visitor

Even though I ate everything they told me to eat, the doctor said they still wanted to keep me overnight in the hospital. To make sure I

was 'stable', and could remain that way.

I kept my mouth shut when the doctor was telling Adam and Brian and Hannah all of this. I just sighed and leaned back against the

pillows on the bed, feeling defeated.

They pushed me down the hall in a wheelchair, to another room. A real room.

"Let's hop up there on the bed," the cheerful nurse told me.

I obediently got onto the hospital bed, and she headed out of the room with the wheelchair, pausing at the door to ask, "Visiting hours are

nearly over. You all can head on home. We'll take good care of Harlie."

"I'll be stayin' the night with her," Adam said.

"Oh. Alright, then. We'll see about getting you some blankets and a pillow," the nurse told Adam.

When she'd gone, Hannah surveyed the chair beside the bed, looking skeptical. I knew she was thinking there was nowhere for

Adam to stretch out his long legs.

"I think I should stay," Hannah said.

"No. You go on home to Scooter," Adam said.

"Alright," Hannah said, looking as though she was torn.

"We'll talk to you in the mornin'," Brian was saying to Adam. "See if they're gonna let her head home."

"I'm not staying here for two nights," I announced, trying to sound assertive, but nobody paid any attention to my comment.

Hannah gave me a hard hug. "Get some rest," she said.

I nodded, and then reached up to hug Brian's neck as he leaned down to kiss the top of my head. "Behave yourself, peach," he told me.

"No promises," I said, and he and Hannah left.

The nurse bustled back into the room, telling me to go into the adjoining bathroom, and change into a hospital nightgown.

"I'll help you," she told me, holding onto the white gown.

"I don't need any help," I said firmly.

Once I was back into bed, and had pulled the blankets up over myself, I felt as though I was on the last remnants of my energy.

I sighed, looking over at Adam as he leaned back in the chair.

"Tired?" he asked me

I nodded. "Uh huh."

"Well, settle back and rest."

As the nurse came in, a different one this time, announcing that she would be my night nurse, I held out my arm, while

she checked my blood pressure, and my pulse.

"You're Clare's little sister, huh?" she asked me, with a grin.

I didn't correct her. Besides, I figured if that's the way that Clare wanted to introduce me, then it was fine with me.

"Yeah," I said.

"She's off duty, and headed home with that handsome husband of hers," the nurse chattered on. "She told me to take good care of you."

When she'd gone, I had just started to relax when the door opened yet again, and another nurse brought in a tray.

"Hot tea and some peanut butter crackers," she told me.

"Thank you," I told her.

When the door closed behind this nurse, I looked over at Adam. "How is a person supposed to get any rest? Every two seconds there's

another one coming in for something."

"You sound more like Brian every day, you know that?" Adam said dryly.

I shrugged, and he said, "That's the way of hospitals. Get your rest while you can." He stood up.

He took the lid off the cup of tea, releasing the steam.

"Drink your tea," he told me. "I'm gonna grab a cup of coffee. I'll be right back."

I nodded, and sipped at the tea until he came back.

"Eat your crackers so you can get to sleep," he said.

"I'm stuffed now," I complained. "I'm not used to eating this much."

"Maybe that's part of the reason you're laying there," Adam said, gesturing at the hospital bed. "Because you haven't been eating right."

I blinked back easy tears. I didn't think it was really fair that he was getting onto me like that.

I picked up a cracker and started eating.

Adam sat down in the chair again. He sipped at his coffee, and the room was quiet for a few moments.

When I'd finished the crackers, and the tea, too, I leaned back again, pulling the blanket up almost to my chin.

Adam sighed, and I looked over at him.

"I don't mean to scold you, sugar," he said. "I know it's a constant battle to keep diabetes under control. I just want you to

do what you need to do to stay healthy."

I nodded in acknowledgement of his semi-apology.

Adam got up to turn off one of the lights, and then paused beside the bed, pulling the blankets up around me.

"Alright?" he asked. "Need anything else?"

"I'm alright. I'm ready to go to sleep."

"Okay," he said, and sat back down in his chair.

In the partial darkness and quiet, I felt myself relaxing and getting drowsy.

"Adam?"

"Hmm?"

"I feel bad about the cattle."

For a moment Adam was silent. Then he said, "The only way I can explain it is this, Harlie. Those cattle, they belong to all of us. If we need to

sell some, for whatever reason, then that's what we'll do. The family comes first. Always. Do you understand?"

"I understand. But I still hate that it's because of me."

"Not because of you," Adam said, accentuating the word 'because'. "It's for you. There's a huge difference." He paused to let his words sink in.

When I was silent, he said, "We know what we're doin', sugar."

"Okay," I said.

"Okay," Adam echoed, sounding relieved. "Do you want to watch some tv while you go to sleep?"

I said yes, and Adam turned the television onto a rerun of Three's Company. I drifted into easy sleep while Janet and Chrissy tried to hide

Jack from Mr. Roper.

7

If any nursing staff came into the room during the night, I didn't know it. I slept deep, not waking up at all.

When I did wake up the next morning, the room was partially light, sunshine streaming thru the cracks in the window blinds.

The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was to my left, Ford sitting in a chair beside the bed, his sock feet propped up on the foot of my bed.

He was reading a book, a really thick book, and I felt gladness come over me, just seeing him sitting there like that.

"Hey," I said.

"Hey," Ford said, laying his book down and looking at me.

"When did you get here?" I asked.

"About three this morning," Ford said, with a grin.

"You didn't have to come, you know. It's not like I'm going to die, or anything," I told him, with a little grin.

Ford laid the thick book on the bedside table, and stood up, leaning over the bed.

"Listen, you," he said. "For your information, I was comin' home this weekend anyway. I was missing Hannah's cooking."

"Yeah?" I challenged him.

"Yeah," he said.

"That's why you got home at three o'clock in the morning," I scoffed.

"I had things to do before I left," Ford said. "I'm a busy college guy. Remember?"

I smiled at him, the gladness in my heart soaring as I looked at his face.

"I'm glad you did come," I told him.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Yeah. Really, really glad," I said, and reached up to wrap my arms around his neck. He leaned down further to give me a hug.

"Where's Adam?" I asked him.

Ford gave a nod towards the other side of my bed, and when I looked, there was Adam, sprawled out in the reclining chair, one arm laying over

his face.

"Some nurse he is," I said, jokingly, lowering my voice so as not to wake Adam.

"He didn't go to sleep until after I got here this morning," Ford informed me. "When I came in, he was sitting here, just watching you sleep."

I felt a clutching in my chest.

"He was?" I asked.

"Yep." Ford sat down on the edge of my bed.

"Poor Adam," I said. "Having to deal with all of this crap."

"Diabetes isn't exactly something that you chose to have," Ford said.

I fiddled with the cuff of Ford's shirt. "I'm not talking about just the diabetes. I mean-everything."

"Aw," Ford said, in understanding. "Karissa. Well, you didn't choose that mess either, did you?"

"No. I didn't choose it. But, it's still mostly my fault."

"I don't understand why you feel that way," Ford said, frowning a little. "Explain."

"If I hadn't snuck around meeting up with her, if I'd told Adam and Brian right away, then maybe all of this wouldn't have happened."

Ford looked as though he was considering what I'd said. "You did some things that weren't so smart, maybe. But what's happening isn't your fault, Har. Not at

all."

I looked into his serious face, feeling a little better.

"Okay," I said.

"Okay," he echoed.

"You don't think there's any chance, do you?" I whispered. "That the case would go her way, I mean."

"Of course not."

"I don't think I could stand it, Ford. If I had to leave everybody-" my voice trailed off.

"There. Is. No. Chance." Ford accentuated each word.

I had to smile a little.

"Okay," I said.

We sat there, whispering about the book Ford was reading, until Adam began to stir from sleep. He stretched, and then sat up on the edge of the

chair. "Morning," he said.

Ford and I both said good morning to him. Adam stood up, stretching some more.

"Doctor been in yet?" he asked.

"Nope. Nobody's been in," Ford said.

"Okay." He paused beside the bed. "How're you feeling?" he asked me.

"Good," I told him.

"I'm gonna grab some coffee. I'll be right back before the doctor starts makin' his rounds," Adam said.

While Adam was gone, they brought me some breakfast, checked my levels, and then Adam came back, telling Ford to go to the cafeteria to get himself

something to eat.

I made quick word of my breakfast, causing Adam to smile a little.

"Good job," he said.

"I was hungry," I said.

By the time the doctor came around, Ford was back, still munching on a doughnut that he'd brought up from the downstairs cafeteria.

The doctor greeted us, shaking hands with Ford.

"Another brother, huh?" he said, with a grin. "They just keep on coming."

"Your level looks good this morning," he went on. "We'll get the paperwork done, and discharge you."

"Yea!" I said.

"I want you to take extra care," the doctor went on. "The right foods. Stay hydrated."

"We'll pay better attention," Adam told him.

"It's not anyone's fault," the doctor said. "Diabetes is tricky, at the very least. Just do your best to stay on top of things."

The doctor smiled at me, and again, I had to admire his all-American good looks.

"Take care, young lady," he told me.

"I will."

"Even though you're the prettiest thing on this whole floor, I don't want to see you back here anytime soon," he joked, and gave me a wink.

"I'll try," I told him, smiling back.

I would have ridden home with Ford, so we could talk some more without anyone else around, but I had a feeling that I couldn't explain.

I felt as though I should be with Adam for some reason. So when Ford asked me, as we reached the parking lot,

"Riding with me?"

I told him that no, I would ride with Adam.

He nodded in understanding. That's the great thing about Ford. He just seems always in tune with other people's feelings.

On the drive home, Adam and I were mostly quiet, until I spoke up,

"Thanks for staying the night with me."

"It's alright," he said.

Then he added, "We have a meeting Monday afternoon with John."

"Oh." I felt an immediate letdown.

"He's a good man," Adam said.

"Brian said that you both have a lot of faith in him."

"We do." Adam sounded confident.

"I won't know what to say to him."

"You answer his questions. Tell the truth. That's it," Adam said.

I nodded, looking over at him. "I feel like going riding when I get home," I said.

"I don't think Hannah's going to want you to do that. You ought to rest."

"I'll rest later. And I'll eat a big lunch," I promised. "Will you tell her it's alright?"

Adam hesitated, a smile at the corner of his mouth. "You think I have that much influence, do you?" he asked.

"I know you do." I smiled at him a little. "Don't you know, you're Superman?"

Adam smiled a little, too, but it didn't reach his eyes. It was a sad sort of smile.

"I'm not Superman, baby," he told me. "If I was, you wouldn't have diabetes. And we wouldn't be seeing a lawyer on Monday."

He sounded so sad for that moment that I didn't know what to say. Adam rarely shows any vulnerability.

Before I could answer, he reached over to pat my knee. "I'll tell Hannah you're going riding," he said.

I nodded, my throat tightening in emotion, and we finished the ride home in silence.

7b47b

"Alright. I'll talk to her," he agreed.


	52. Ford's Fear

At home, while we were parking, family appeared out of the barn, and the house, greeting Ford with welcoming hugs, and back-slapping, and

I was welcomed home, too.

Crane pulled off his work gloves and squeezed me until I was breathless.

Guthrie picked me up and spun me around until Hannah protested.

"Guthrie, stop, and put her down," she ordered.

Adam put a hand on the center of Hannah's back. "Harlie's fine. It's not going to hurt her if Guthrie throws her around a little bit."

"Well, alright then!" Guthrie said, sounding gleeful, and promptly tossed me at Ford, who nearly dropped me.

I went for my horseback ride, and though Hannah did object, at first, her protests weren't really all that loud. I guess she knew that I needed to

go. I went towards the barn, under strict instructions to be back before lunchtime.

When I got out to the corral, it was to find Evan there, saddling old Charlie.

"The old fella's been acting as though he's feelin' down," Evan said, continuing to tighten the cinch. "I figured he was missing you."

I'd planned to ride Petra, so that I could ride hard, and fast, and feel the wind in my hair. But I recognized Evan's actions of saddling Charlie for me

for what they really were. A reaching out of his. Feeling, I knew, sorry that he'd been short-tempered with me about the hot water the night before. Worried

about my trip to the hospital.

"Thanks for saddling him up," I said, coming close to rest my cheek on Charlie's flank.

"It's alright."

Evan finished the cinch and laid the stirrup back over in its place.

He turned to face me. "You feelin' better?" he asked.

"A lot better."

"That's good." He hesitated for a moment. "Want me to come with you?"

I shook my head, hoping he would understand. Evan's not always as attuned as Ford or Crane.

"I kind of want to ride by myself," I said.

"Ok. Sure," he said, nodding. "See ya later."

I rode at a docile pace until I was out of sight of the house. At that point, I could feel Charlie's desire to run. He's old, but he still has a lot of young

rodeo horse in him. Doc G always used to say that every once in awhile, old Charlie could run as though he was barely out of his colt stage.

I leaned down over his neck. "Are you sure, boy?"

Charlie tossed his head in reply, and I laughed. "Okay," I said, and gave him his freedom to run the fields in fast style.

7

The rest of the weekend passed quietly. I did my homework, and I read. And I ate. I ate a lot. It seemed as though every time I looked up,

somebody was bringing me something more to eat.

I stayed home from church on Sunday, although I wouldn't have minded going. Crane stayed home, too, and while he worked on paperwork

at his desk, I sat on the couch, reading the Sunday newspaper. Every once in awhile, I would ask Crane questions about something in there, or

read to him from an article.

When the telephone rang, I told Crane I'd answer it, and when I said 'hello', it was Daniel's voice who responded.

"Hullo, squirt!"

"Hello, Daniel!"

"I hear you're up to your usual tricks. Causing everybody's hair to turn gray with worry."

"You've gotten your information from an unreliable source," I said smartly. "I'm being my usual uncomplicated, charming self, only bringing joy

to those around me."

"Shouldn't be tellin' lies on a Sunday, brat," Daniel said, laughing.

He seemed to turn serious then. "You're okay, though, Crane says. Your level or whatever it is, was off. Right?"

"Right. I'm fine. Let's talk about something else. Have you met Glen Campbell yet?"

"No," he laughed again. "I'm still working on that," he said.

We talked for awhile, and then Daniel said he needed to go. I was reluctant to let him off the telephone.

"Crane's here. Do you want to talk to him?" I asked.

"That's okay. I talked to him last night. He's the one who told me about your little hospital adventure. I'll call back later in the week

sometime to talk to everybody."

"Okay." I hesitated. "Do you know how long it's been since you were home?"

"I know. I've just been crazy busy lately."

"Hannah says she's practically forgotten what you look like," I added.

"Ouch. Way to pour on the guilt, squirt."

"I'm sorry. I'm not trying to do that. We just all miss you."

"I miss everybody, too," Daniel said, sounding regretful.

I could hear loud voices in the background. "Are you at work?" I asked him.

"Uh huh. Rehearsing."

"We have to go see a lawyer tomorrow," I said.

"I know. Crane told me that, too."

I was silent and Daniel said, "I know everybody's probably tellin' you the same thing. Not to worry. But it's true, you know? It will

all blow over."

"I don't know, Daniel. I'm not so sure about that," I said, lowering my voice a little.

"What? I can't hear you."

"Never mind," I told him.

"Nothing's going to come from it. That's a fact."

"How do you know that?" I asked him.

"Because. Rule number 27 in the O.B.H.B."

"Uh huh. And what does the Older Brother's Hand Book have to say?" I asked.

"Rule number 27," Daniel began. "States absolutely, positively, that once being saddled with the constant worry, and occasional joy of

a baby sister, that said baby sister will never be allowed to leave the circle of protection of the Brotherhood."

"That's a mouthful," I said, and I couldn't help smiling at the outlandish rules he came up with from that imaginary book of his.

"And the truth," Daniel insisted.

"You're so crazy," I told him.

"At least I got you to smile. Right?" he asked.

"Yeah. You did."

"I gotta go. I love you, squirt."

"I love you, too," I told him.

7

The next morning, Hannah told me I could stay home from school.

"Another day of rest won't hurt anything," she insisted.

"I'm fine, Hannah," I told her.

"I don't know," she said, looking doubtful.

I looked at Adam for support, and he intervened. "If she feels up to it, then it's her decision," he told Hannah.

"Alright," Hannah said, with a sigh. I thought privately that it seemed as though since Hannah had Isaac, she was now a chronic worrier. Way more than

she used to be. Adam's always telling Guthrie and I to be patient with her about it.

I was shoving stuff into my backpack when Ford came into the living room.

"Want a ride to school?" he offered. "I'm getting ready to head back to college."

"Sure," I said, looking at Guthrie. "Okay, Guth?"

"Sure thing," Guthrie said. "I can listen to the radio station I want, for a change."

I stuck out my tongue at Guthrie playfully.

Once on the way to the high school, Ford brought up the painful subject that was worrying me.

"So the lawyer appointment is this afternoon, right? Adam's picking you up at school?"

"Uh huh."

"I'll be thinking of you. And I'll say a prayer," Ford said.

"Thanks."

Into the upcoming silence, I said, "I'm not gonna go, Ford."

"What?" he asked, sounding confused. "You have to go today."

"Not today. I mean, if they say I have to go live with her. I won't go."

Ford looked across the truck cab at me. "What do you mean?" He sounded alarmed.

"I mean I won't go," I repeated stoutly.

"I don't think that you're going to have to worry about that," Ford said. "But, let's say that it does become a possibility. How is it you think you're

going to solve it?"

I met Ford's gaze with a stony look of my own. I shrugged, not answering.

Before I knew what was happening, Ford had pulled over to the side of the road, put on his flasher lights, put the truck in park, and turned

in the seat to look at me, full-on.

"What are you doing?" I asked, although I knew very well what his intention was.

"Talking. We're gonna talk."

"I'll be late for school," I offered, half-heartedly.

"You won't be late. And if you are, I'll take the blame. What do you mean when you say all that? That you won't go?"

"I don't think it's right," I said, backtracking a bit. "I don't see why this even has to be a consideration. She has no right to file a

custody thing."

Ford waved a hand at me. "I agree with all that. I want to know what you mean when you say that you won't go?"

"Would you want to go?" I countered. "If you were my age, and this had happened to you, would you want to go?"

"Of course not. Now quit avoiding my question."

Ford, in his own quiet way, can be just as stubborn, just as forceful as any of my other brothers. At this moment he was looking intractable.

"I won't go with her. I'll run off, or something." I said, in a low voice.

Ford considered me for a long, long moment. "You don't mean that," he said.

"I do mean it."

"You're talking dumb."

"You be in this situation, and then let's see if you call me dumb," I said stubbornly.

"Where is it you think you'd go?" he asked, still sounding calm enough.

"I don't know. Somewhere."

"I hear Florida's nice this time of year," he said.

"Funny. Haha."

"I'm making jokes, because I know you can't be serious."

"Okay, Ford," I said, beginning to get irritated. "Keep on thinking that if it makes you feel better."

Well, that got his attention for sure. And it pricked his temper, too. Which is uncommon, because Ford's anger is slow to ignite.

"You mean it, then?" he asked me, with a frown.

I sighed. "I've thought about it. What I would do."

He was glaring at me a little, and I said, "Come on, Ford. Don't be mad."

"I'm trying not to be. But this is crazy. You need to talk to somebody about this. About how you're feeling."

"I am. I'm talking to you," I pointed out.

"I mean Adam. Or Brian. Or Crane. Crane's great to talk to about intense stuff-"

"I don't want to worry them," I pointed out. "They have enough worries."

"Harlie-"

"Besides, it would only upset them. They want me to stay calm, and not think anything is going to come of all this. They keep telling me not to

worry."

"Because they don't know what else to say, Harlie!"

We sat there in silence for a few minutes, each of us watching the passing cars zooming past us.

"I need to get to school," I prompted him.

He nodded, and put the truck in gear, and we drove on. At the high school, Ford pulled in amidst the high school drivers. A couple of guys

saw Ford driving past, and honked and hollered to him. He waved back, and then, when he stopped, I picked up my backpack.

"Thanks for the ride," I said.

Ford was looking at me, as though he wanted to say something. He looked scared, and worried. I felt bad for riling him up.

"Don't get shook up," I said. "I was just spouting off. I didn't really mean it."

I got out on my side of the truck, and came around to him. He'd gotten out, too, and was leaning against the door of the truck.

"Have a good week at school," I told him. I reached up to pat his cheek. "Bye, Fordie," I told him.

With a suddenness that caught my breath, Ford reached up and caught my hand. He held it so tightly that I couldn't have gotten loose even

if I'd wanted to.

"Don't do that," he said, sounding mad.

"Do what?"

"Act all fake, and casual. Like you didn't just tell me you were gonna run off."

"I told you I was just spouting off. That I didn't mean it."

I could tell that he wanted to believe me.

"For real?" he asked me.

"For real."

"Because you cant, you know. Run off. That wouldn't solve anything. It would cause nothing but problems. Do you know how scared and worried

the family would be?"

"Yes. I know." I had my eyes fastened on his chest,

Ford clutched my hand even harder. "Look at me, Har," he said.

I raised my eyes to his.

"Promise me. Or I'm gonna talk to Adam. Tell him how you're really feeling."

I was struck by a sense of panic. "Don't! Ford, please!"

"I don't want to, but-"

"I should be able to talk to you, and have it be private between us!" I was trying to make Ford feel guilty, and I knew I'd succeeded, because of the

look on his face.

"I want you to talk to me," he agreed, looking guilty.

"Then keep what I say private!"

"I will. But with something like this, if you're feeling so scared, or you're gonna do something dumb, then I don't think I should keep it to myself."

I took a deep breath. I had to calm Ford down. "I promise, Ford." I looked at him as entreatingly as I could, hoping to sway him.

"Okay," he said, still looking uncertain.

"Just have some faith," he added.

For a moment I was irritated. He was sounding just like all the rest of my brothers. More of the same.

'Don't worry'. 'Things will be fine'. 'It will all blow over'. 'Nothing's going to come of it'. 'Have faith'.

"I need to get to class before the tardy bell," I said.

"Okay." Ford released my hand.

We stood looking at each other, as kids swarmed around us, some of them calling out greetings to either Ford or I.

"I love you, goofy," he said quietly.

"I know. I love you, too."

"How about I call you tonight? To see how the lawyer's meeting went?" He snapped his fingers together in thought. "Wait. I've got a late class. I'll call

tomorrow night, though. For sure."

"Okay."

"Alright. Bye." He gave me a quick hug.

"Bye." I tried to smile.

I watched him drive away, out of the high school parking lot. He looked back as he pulled onto the highway, and waved. I waved back. He

still had that same look of confusion and worry on his face. I went inside the school, and headed to first hour, thinking that I'd committed one of the

worst sins in the world. Upsetting Ford.

7


	53. Braving the unknown

Midway thru the morning, in between classes, I was at my locker.

"Hi, Harlie."

I looked up from where I was searching thru notebooks. "Hi, Steven."

"How are you?"

"I'm good. A lot better." I gave him a half-smile. "I'm sorry about Friday night."

"It's not your fault. Gosh. Don't feel that way. I'm just glad you're okay," Steven said.

I surveyed Steven. He really was a nice guy.

"I have diabetes," I said.

"Yeah. Guthrie told me. I don't know a lot about it."

"I knew nothing at all about it when I was diagnosed last fall. It was a total shock," I told him.

"I'll bet," he said, sounding sympathetic.

I picked up the book I needed for the next class, and shut my locker.

"Well," I hesitated.

"Yeah. Better get to class, I guess," he said.

I nodded.

"Would you want to go out again sometime?" he asked me.

"Sure."

"Great. I'll see you," Steven said, with a grin.

"See you," I echoed.

7

It was the beginning of sixth hour when I was called to the office. When I went in, Adam was standing there, waiting for me.

He said goodbye to Mrs. Wilson, and we went outside, and down the school's front steps.

Crane was leaning against the side of Clare's car, talking to Mr. Best. The two of them have been friends since high school, and

still occasionally go fishing together.

I got into the back seat of Clare's car, Crane got in the driver's seat, and Adam on the passenger side.

"How was your day?" Adam asked me, as we started to drive.

"Fine."

"Did you grab your homework?" he asked.

I patted my backpack. "Yeah. I've got it."

We drove along in silence for awhile. I observed both of them from my vantage point of the center of the back seat. After his initial stab at conversation,

Adam fell silent. Crane, too. From watching Adam's profile, I thought that he looked pensive. Thoughtful. I couldn't see worry on his face, though.

I tried observing Crane, as well. Until he looked in the rearview mirror, and caught me watching him.

"You okay?" he asked me.

"Yeah."

He gave me a look in the mirror that suggested that he knew better, but he didn't say anything.

After a few more minutes, I leaned forward a little.

"What do you think the lawyer's going to ask me?" I asked them.

"Have to wait and see," Adam said.

I sank back against the seat. "That's not an answer," I complained.

Adam half-turned, to look at me. "Well, I don't know the answer, Harlie," he snapped. "If I did, then I'd tell you."

I winced, and felt as though I wanted to cry.

"Sorry," I said, but I didn't really mean it.

Crane looked at me in the rearview mirror again, his expression sympathetic. "It's an initial meeting. To see where things stand right now. Try

not to get too worked up."

I shrugged, and looked away from his gaze.

For the rest of the ride to Stockton, I was quiet. I got out some English homework, and tried to work on that.

When we arrived in Stockton, Adam and Crane both started looking for the address.

Outside the lawyer's office, I couldn't control the butterflies in my stomach, as we all got out of the car.

We went inside, and Adam checked in with the receptionist. I'd only been in one other lawyer's office, and that was when

I'd found out that Doc G had left me his truck, and money for college. And I'd known before I went into that meeting, that there wouldn't be anything bad to hear. This

was entirely different.

I sat down in a vacant chair, and Crane sat down next to me.

"This is horrible," I muttered.

"Hang tight," Crane said.

Adam came over and sat down on the other side of me. And we waited. And we waited some more. I suddenly felt extremely warm, and not

very well.

"I need some air," I said. "I'm going to step outside a minute."

Both of them gave me a concerned look. "Did you eat lunch?" Adam asked me, and I knew that he was thinking of the previous Friday night

when I'd ended up in the hospital.

"Yes. And I ate a snack. It's not that," I told him. "I'm just hot."

"Okay," he said, and I went outside the building, leaning against the bricks. I tried to relax, but when the door opened a few minutes

later, and Crane came out, I wasn't really feeling much better.

When he asked me if I was though, I told him I was fine.

He stood there beside me, rubbing a circle on my shoulder with his hand. "Let's do a couple of deep breaths," he told me.

"It won't help."

"Deep breaths," he insisted.

I took a few deep breaths, breathing in and then out.

"There you go," Crane said, still rubbing my shoulder.

"Why is Adam so mad?" I complained.

"He's not mad, peanut."

"Could have fooled me," I said, sarcastically.

"He's scared, Harlie."

I looked up at Crane, feeling as though the bottom of my stomach had dropped. If he'd thought that by sharing that with me, that it would help me

to feel better somehow, then he was mistaken. I didn't want Adam to be scared. I wanted him to be totally in control, full of confidence.

I wanted all of my brothers to be that way, with no doubts about this whole situation.

"I don't want him to be," I said.

"A person can be scared, really frightened, and still be strong," Crane said, sounding definite.

I thought about that for a minute. "But, if he's scared, then that means there really might be something to all of this. That she might actually have a

case-" I let my voice trail off.

"No, Harlie. It's the worry of it. We all feel the same. There's nothing to her case. It doesn't mean he can't be scared."

I reached up and caught at Crane's hand, the one that had been rubbing my shoulder.

"Are you scared too, Crane?" I asked him.

Crane gave me a half-smile. "To death."

7

When the lawyer's secretary finally came out to tell us he was ready to see us, I was feeling a little calmer. Crane, and his deep breathing instruction,

had actually helped.

Once in the lawyer's office, he stood up from behind his desk, coming around to shake hands with Crane and Adam, and then with me. He was older

than I'd expected, and very business-like.

He made no attempt to put us at ease. He got right down to things, sifting thru some papers on his desk.

"Karissa-Mrs. Bonner, has, as you know, filed a petition for custody of Harlie." He sat back a little in his leather chair.

"Before we get into that, why don't you tell me a little about her? Your relationship with her, and all of that? Adam, why don't you start?"

Adam went on to talk about Karissa, how she'd begun to come around after our parents were killed, and the now-familiar story of her driving

drunk with Ford in the car.

"And what was your opinion, at that stage in time, as to what she wanted?" Mr. Gates asked.

Adam hesitated a little, and then said, "At the time, I thought maybe she just wanted to help out. She seemed to focus mainly on Harlie, though, and

was always taking her out for the day or whatever."

I looked at Adam in surprise. I hadn't known that.

"I'll admit that it was helpful sometimes," Adam went on. "To have Harlie visit her for a day here and there. There were times Brian and

I were overwhelmed."

"But after the drunk driving scare with Ford, we told her to leave and not come back," Adam finished.

"You and Brian said that?" the lawyer asked.

"Yeah. Brian and I," Adam affirmed, leaning forward in his chair, and folding his hands together.

"And while you were growing up, you said that she didn't visit the family? Come to see your mother?"

"No, she didn't," Adam said. "Mom never talked about her at all. At least not that I remember."

"She didn't like our father," I interjected into the conversation, and then felt my face warm when they all three turned to look at me.

"Did Mrs. Bonner tell you that?" Mr. Gates asked me.

"No. Not exactly. I mean, I could tell by the way she talked about him that she didn't really like him. But it's more from the journal that

I know that she didn't," I told him.

"Journal?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. My mom's journal. She talks about Karissa in there, and all of that."

"Interesting," the lawyer said, looking intrigued.

I subsided into silence again, as Adam told Mr. Gates about social services being called by Karissa, and the ordeal of all my brothers being

talked to.

"And what was her concern at that time? Why call social services?" he asked.

"Mostly that Brian and I were too young to take care of all the kids. That we wouldn't be able to meet all their needs," Adam stated.

"Tell me about that. What happened when they came to talk to the kids?" Mr. Gates asked.

Adam hesitated again, looking at Crane for a moment. Then he seemed to go back, in his mind, to a harsh memory. His face changed. Tightened.

"They talked to all of them. They separated them." Adam gestured to Crane. "Crane can tell you more about that."

As Mr. Gates looked at Crane for confirmation, Crane said, "I was older, so I think they probably asked the younger guys different things. They

asked me about whether we all went to school regularly, and how our grades were, and things like that." Crane looked thoughtful for a moment.

"They asked who cooked, and who did the grocery shopping, and all of that," he added.

"What was your support system back then?" the lawyer asked, looking towards Adam.

"Well, Crane did a lot, obviously," Adam said, sounding regretful. "More than he should have. We had some neighbors who watched

the boys sometimes. And they helped out with meals, for the first few months or so. And Marie. She was always around."

"Marie?" Mr. Gates asked.

"Yeah. She owns the café in town. In Murphys. She's been a family friend since way back."

Mr. Gates scribbled something down on a notepad.

"They determined that you, and Brian, were doing well, though? The investigation was concluded?" he asked.

Adam nodded. "Yeah. But they kept it open for awhile. Made some more visits to check on things. I think about a year or so."

Again, I was surprised. I hadn't known that. I felt sorry for Crane and Daniel, Evan and Ford. It must have been hard for them to

be questioned all the time.

"It was hardest on Daniel and Evan," Crane added. "Ford was really too young to understand why this woman kept coming to the house

or to school to talk to him. But Daniel and Evan, they were scared a lot."

"And yourself, too," Adam prompted him, and a look passed between he and Crane that made me catch my breath.

A look of shared pain, and regret. It was sad to watch.

"Yeah," Crane agreed. "Me, too."

After that the lawyer progressed to the years in between, asking Adam and Crane to describe how they'd managed.

"Well, you take all the kids we had, a houseful of boys, and throw Harlie into the mix," Adam said, "And it'd be safe to say we knew our

way to the emergency room, with all the stitches and broken bones over the years."

The lawyer, for the first time, appeared to smile. "I'm not surprised," he said. "But everybody stayed in school? Graduated?"

"Yeah, for sure," Crane said. "Daniel and Evan graduated. Ford's in his first year of college now. Guthrie's a junior in high school, and Harlie's a sophomore."

"And what are Guthrie's plans after high school?"

"I don't think he's made up his mind yet," Adam said. "I think he's leaning toward a welding degree. A trade school."

"What about you, young lady?" Mr. Gates asked, turning his gaze onto me. "Do you plan on college?"

"Yes, sir," I said.

"She's planning on veterinary school," Adam said, his voice filled with pride.

"That's a fine ambition," Mr. Gates said, looking impressed. "Are your grades good?"

"For the most part," I added, in honesty.

"And are you independent in keeping them up? Or do you need reminders?"

"Well," I hesitated, looking at Crane and Adam, and then back towards Mr. Gates, "I'm mostly independent, I guess. Crane keeps up

on things, though. At the first of the school year, he helped me when I was having trouble in algebra, and he arranged for a tutor for me."

"Very good," Mr. Gates said.

"Uh huh," I said, and waited.

"What are the consequences if they fall?" he asked me then. "If you have a grade that needs improvement?"

I hesitated again. "Mostly Crane talks to me," I said honestly. "And like recently, he went over my progress report with me, and

told me to work harder, and then he said I wouldn't be grounded if I promised to get them up again."

"Ah," Mr. Gates said, leaning back in his chair again, and I wondered if I'd said the wrong thing. I didn't want him thinking that

my brothers didn't care about my grades.

"But it's an understanding between us," I added. "If I don't get the lower ones up in a certain amount of time, then he'd

ground me." I looked towards Crane. "Right, Crane?"

Crane gave me a half-smile. "Right."

"Harlie's a good student, though," Adam interjected. "She works hard."

I gave Adam a grateful smile at his praise.

"Well, let's discuss some of Mrs. Bonner's concerns," Mr. Gates said, and I tensed up, aware that Adam did, as well.

He looked thru the paperwork on the desk in front of him again. "She feels that Harlie has been absorbed into the all-male household during

her growing up years. That you didn't dress her properly. That she has never had the opportunities to develop as a young girl should."

"That's not true!" I burst out.

"Harlie," Adam said quietly, in reproval.

"I understand how you feel," Mr. Gates said to me. "But let's finish first, and then you can reply. Alright?"

"Yes, sir," I said.

So we listened, while Mr. Gates outlined the main points. Those being, that besides me being as she said, "dressed as a boy" the majority of the time, I

was always being toted to all-male activities. That my hair was always tangled and not done properly.

I squirmed in my chair at that, itching to tell Mr. Gates how Adam, and Brian, too, had practiced at braiding my curls until they were nearly pros at it.

"Obviously, those complaints were for early on, when Harlie was more dependent." He looked at the paperwork again. "Let's talk about

more recent concerns of hers."

"She states that Harlie isn't allowed to dress like other girls her age. I myself find that a bit ridiculous," he added. "You look typically dressed

to me."

"She's talking about expensive clothes," I interrupted. "Cashmere sweaters, and things."

"She says you're dissatisfied with your clothing," he went on.

"I'm not!" I insisted. As he looked at me, I added, more quietly, "Well, I mean the sweaters were really pretty, and I kept one of them, but

they're not really what girls wear at my school for everyday."

"Again, I feel that's not all that important," he said. "She says you'd like to travel. That you expressed a desire to see

things beyond your home. That you feel stifled by your lack of exposure to places outside of your home area."

I had to bite my lip to keep my temper from erupting at that last comment.

"She talked about Paris," I said. I hesitated. "I mean, yes, sure, sometime I'd like to travel. Maybe. But I never said that I feel stifled, or

whatever she said."

"Let's move on to more serious concerns," he said, and I felt my stomach knot in anxiety.

"Mrs. Bonner is a wealthy woman. She feels she would be able to provide a lifestyle, opportunities for Harlie that your family cannot."

His tone was blunt, and I felt as though I was going to be sick for a moment. I knew how sensitive Adam was to the fact that our family

was constantly having to watch their spending.

"There's no validity in that, either," Mr. Gates said, and I let out a sigh of relief. "Kids can't be taken from the home due to the fact that

they lack some expensive things that catch their eye, or that they're not sipping tea in a Paris sidewalk café."

"The things that we do need to be concerned about with this, are the safety issues that she has raised, and the domestic issues."

Before I could ask what he meant by that, Crane spoke up. "What domestic issues?"

"She has voiced her worry about tempers erupting in the home. Yelling. Fighting. That things are in a state of turmoil. That it affects

Harlie in a negative way."

For a long, long moment we all just sat there, staring at Mr. Gates.

"What the hell," I heard Adam mutter.

"I understand it's disconcerting. Can you think what she might be talking about?" Mr. Gates asked.

"She's only been at our house once since she approached Harlie," Adam began.

"Twice," Crane corrected.

"Twice, right," Adam agreed. "So I don't know what she's talking about."

Adam and Crane looked at each other, and then at me.

"Did you perhaps talk to Karissa about an incident at home?" Mr. Gates asked me. "Express concern about a problem there?"

"No!" I said. "I wouldn't-"

"She says that she observed one such incident herself," he went on.

Adam and Crane looked even more puzzled, and Adam shook his head in his lack of understanding.

"Oh," I said, and they all looked at me.

"Oh, what?" Adam asked.

I wished I didn't have to say it. "The time she came over, with the clothes, and the boots," I reminded them. "When I was trying on that

skirt. Remember?"

"I remember the skirt," Adam said, his jaw tightening. "What about it?"

"You were mad," I reminded him.

"So?" he pressed me.

"You and Hannah were arguing," I said.

I saw the moment that he recollected the fracas in the kitchen that day. He looked pained. And regretful. And embarrassed.

"Yeah," he said. "That's right."

"It wasn't that big a deal," I hurried to say. "Adam and Brian were unhappy about her bringing more stuff to me. They didn't want me

to accept things from her-" I paused, thinking I was making things worse. It would sound as though they'd kept me from taking a harmless

gift from someone.

"Go on," Mr. Gates instructed me.

"Well, Adam said I could keep the first sweater, but he didn't want me to take jewelry from her, or anything else that was so expensive. And they

didn't approve of the skirt-" my voice trailed off.

"What were your reasons for taking that stand on the gifts?" Mr. Gates asked Adam.

It seemed to me as though Adam would be portrayed as being jealous of not being able to give me expensive things. I didn't want him to

be seen in that light.

"He thought that-" I began, but I stopped when Crane laid a restraining hand on my knee.

"I wanted her to wait on that stuff," Adam said in explanation. "I wanted her to build a relationship with Harlie slowly, not just be buying her things

all the time." He hesitated. "I don't want Harlie to get the wrong ideas, or see people only for what they can do for her." When Adam finished saying all

of that, he gave a short sigh.

"I guess that sums it up," he said. "I want Harlie to have some values."

Mr. Gates nodded. "I understand that." He paused. "What about this argument Mrs. Bonner talks about?"

"Well," Adam said, looking uncomfortable, "Hannah and I had a go-around in the kitchen. It was uncalled for, I'll admit that. I lost my temper."

"But there's no abuse in the home?" Mr. Gates asked.

Adam's face tightened, and seemed to lose color.

"No," he said.

"God, no," Crane echoed.

"So just a simple argument, then?" Mr. Gates asked.

"Yeah," Adam said. He hesitated, and then added, "I mean, we're not a perfect family, not by any means, but we don't have that

much arguing in the house. At least, I don't think we do."

"We don't," Crane agreed.

"Alright. The final thing, beyond the advantages she feels she could provide, and the lack of temper control as she terms it, is the safety

issues," Mr. Gates said.

"And what's that?" Adam asked, and I could hear the tension in his voice.

Again the lawyer sifted thru the papers. "Harlie being hit in the face with a gate?" he questioned.

"That wasn't anything," I broke in. "I was petting my dog, and one of the cows pushed against the gate. I wasn't paying attention."

"And your hand?" he asked, gesturing at my casted hand. "She claims that happened when you were sent into a-" he hesitated, reading

over the papers, "a situation that you weren't equipped to handle. That one of your brothers should have done it."

"I-" I began, but Adam interrupted me.

"That was a bad deal," he said. "We were rounding up cattle. Harlie took out after a couple of calves. Her horse took a fall on a hill."

"It's nothing I haven't done a million time before," I insisted, and then wondered if I should have, as Mr. Gates raised his eyebrows at me.

"Go on, young lady," he told me.

"I don't mean it that way," I backtracked. "It's just that I've always helped, when it's time to do things like that."

"Is the horse too spirited for you?" he asked me, and I saw both Adam and Crane break into half-smiles at the question.

"I take it that's not the situation here," Mr. Gates said, with a smile of his own.

"Harlie's been riding since she was two," Adam said. "We don't have a single horse on the ranch that she can't handle."

"It wasn't Petra's fault," I said, in defense. "I took the hill down too fast. It was my own mistake."

"What did you fellas have to say to her about that?" Mr. Gates asked then.

Crane and Adam exchanged looks. "Well, I wasn't happy about it," Adam said. "That's for sure."

He hesitated for a moment. "I felt as though she took a chance that she didn't need to take," Adam continued. "In cases like that with

the kids, I tend to come down hard."

"I understand," Mr. Gates said. "So injuries are usually typical ranch-type accidents, is that right?"

I nodded, and Adam said, "That's right."

"I would imagine that for someone that's used to life in the city, such as Mrs. Bonner, ranching life might seem a bit overwhelming," Mr. Gates said.

I could tell that Adam or Crane neither one really wanted to give Karissa the benefit of the doubt like that. They didn't really answer, and

I said, "She's never tried to understand our life! She just always wants to criticize, just like she did to our mom."

"And you feel this, because of the journal?" he asked.

"Yes," I said, and took a steadying breath.

"You mentioned that if your grades were poor, that you might be grounded?" he asked me.

I nodded.

"What other things might you be punished for?" he asked me.

I looked at Adam, and at Crane, feeling awkward. "Well, if I'm late getting home, or something like that."

Mr. Gates nodded. "And what happens then?"

"I get talked to," I said, feeling uncertain.

"Anything else you can think of?" he asked.

"If I talk back or I'm disrespectful," I said.

"Is that what causes you to get into the most trouble?" he asked me.

"Well," I considered. "I guess if I told a lie, that would be the worst punishment." I still cringed whenever I thought about that afternoon

when Brian had taken me to task for lying to him about being in an accident.

"Mrs. Bonner says you feel as though your brothers are overly strict. That you're not allowed to do what other girls your age

do," Mr. Gates continued.

"I never complained about my brothers to her!" I said. "She's the one who said all of that!"

He regarded me intently, so I went on, "I mean, they're sort of strict, but I didn't tell her that I thought that."

"Most teens feel their parents, or their family, are too strict," Mr. Gates said, sounding kind.

"Before we forget to mention it," Adam said, "Harlie was in the hospital from Friday night until Saturday morning. She had a low blood sugar

episode."

"Ah," Mr. Gates said, and scribbled something down on his notebook. "Thank you for letting me know that. I'm certain it could be twisted

somehow."

"But it won't be, right?" I asked him, my heart pounding. "I mean, it's just something that can happen with diabetes."

"Try not to worry, Harlie," Mr. Gates told me. "I know this is stressful for the entire family, but we're going to figure it all out."

"Okay," I said. After a moment's thought, I asked him, "Aren't I past the age where I can make the decision to not live with her? I've been doing

some reading-"

"Generally speaking, yes, the judge takes those things into consideration. In most cases."

"Including this one?" I asked, feeling as though I could hardly voice the words.

"Well, once it's stated that there is no domestic violence in the home, then I think our situation will be more secure," Mr. Gates

said, and I thought that he hadn't really answered my question at all.

Mr. Gates stood up, and so we all stood up, as well. "I want to ask you one thing, young lady, and I'd like a direct answer."

"Okay," I said again, trying not to become more nervous.

"Have you, at any time that you can recall, ever given Mrs. Bonner the impression that you might be open to living with her? That you would

prefer it rather than living with your family?"

"No!" I said, feeling my heart-pounding grow louder. "I haven't! I would never do that."

"I didn't imagine that you had," he said, and gave me a steady look.

"I wouldn't want to live anywhere but home," I said fiercely. "I mean, I plan on college and all of that, but even after

that, I want to stay around Murphys, and help on the ranch-"

"I understand, Harlie." He put out a hand. "It was good to meet you."

I shook his hand. "Good to meet you, too," I responded politely.

After shaking hands with Crane and Adam again, too, he said simply that he would be in touch with us.

We were thru the outside lobby, when I hesitated, and stopped walking.

"Can I go back and tell him something else?" I asked.

"What?" Adam asked. "Let's just get going home, Harlie." He looked weary and upset.

"Just something I want him to know," I said. "It'll just take a minute."

Adam sighed. "We'll meet you at the truck," he said.

I went back over to the receptionist's desk, and asked if I could speak to Mr. Gates again.

She went to relay my message, and a moment later Mr. Gates came to the door of his office.

"Harlie?" he asked questioningly.

"I wanted to tell you something-that I forgot," I said, feeling awkward.

"Come in," he said, and ushered me back into his office. "Should I close the door?" he asked me. "Is it private?"

"You don't need to," I said.

"Alright." He stood looking at me. "What is it you wanted to share with me?"

"I just wanted to tell you-about the part with my hair, when I was really little?"

Mr. Gates looked a little surprised, and I thought he must have been expecting something a bit more major than that.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Maybe when I was really little, a baby, they didn't do my hair very well. I don't know, because there aren't that many pictures

from those days," I began in a rush of talking, "but when I got older, when I went to kindergarten and after that, they did good at doing

my hair. They would take turns, every morning doing my hair, and sometimes at night they would have me sit on their lap, and they would practice doing

braids and all of that, so that I would look tidy and-" I hesitated. "And cared for. And at night they had to have been exhausted from everything

they had to do all day, and then getting all my brothers ready for bed, but they would still do that. Practice on my hair, I mean."

I stopped to take a breath, and Mr. Gates gave me a serious look.

"That's a mouthful, Harlie," he said.

"Yes," I said, feeling a little embarrassed. "I just wanted you to know that."

"That is impressive to hear," Mr. Gates said.

Encouraged by his comment, I added, "They were just kids themselves, really. And they did a good job."

Mr. Gates smiled a little. "I think I understand what you're trying to say to me, Harlie. You feel that they did a good job overall with

you and your brothers. Not just with your hair. Am I understanding you correctly?"

I nodded at him gratefully. "Yes, sir. That's what I meant to say."

"Thank you, Harlie. I'm glad you let me know that."

I said goodbye, and went back out thru the lobby, going down the office steps, towards the parking lot, to where Adam and Crane were waiting

for me.

7b47b


	54. Unyielding Nerve

The ride home in Clare's little car was a quiet one. Both Adam and Crane seemed as though they were lost in thought, and, since I was

feeling lots of conflicting emotions of my own, I wasn't inclined to talk, either.

Stopping mid-way home, at a gas station in Carmen, we waited until the gas station attendant came around to the driver's side window.

"Fill it up?" he asked.

"Yeah. Thanks," Crane said, and then we sat and waited, as the gas tank was filled, and the windshield washed.

Adam broke the silence enough to turn and ask me, "How about we stop for somethin' to eat? A hamburger, maybe?"

I shrugged. "I'm fine with waiting until we get home to eat," I told him, then adding, "Unless you guys want to stop."

"I can wait," Crane said, handing a ten dollar bill out the window to the man to pay for the gas.

"Alright," Adam said, and subsided into silence again.

"I just kind of want to get home," I added, from the back seat. "It feels like an 'at home' type of evening."

I'd meant that I wanted the comfort of our somewhat shabby, but comfortable living room, and to feel protected within

the familiar walls. I didn't know if they would really understand what I meant, but I might have been wrong, because Crane gave me

a smile in the rearview mirror, and then Adam said quietly, "Agreed," in a subdued voice.

I tried to concentrate on my homework again, but finally gave up, and just wrapped my arms around myself, staring out the

window, and feeling miserable.

This was all my fault. I'd concluded that. Nobody in the family may say that outright, but it was. If I had just walked away from Karissa

that day in the parking lot of the Dairy Kurl, or if I'd talked to her and then gone right home and told my brothers about it, then

none of this would be happening. Of that I was certain.

When we arrived home, we sat down to eat with the rest of the family, who had waited supper for us. Roast with vegetables, and some of

Hannah's homemade rolls.

Brian, pouring milk from the pitcher into glasses before he sat down, filled Guthrie's glass, and then began to fill mine.

"I'll drink water," I told him.

Brian paused, and then filled my glass with the cold milk. "Milk's good for you," he said, in answer, giving my braid a gentle pull.

I pushed the food around on my plate, taking only an occasional bite here and there.

"What's wrong with my roast?" Hannah asked me.

I looked up to meet her eyes. "Nothing. It's good."

"I bet a hot soak in the bathtub would help relax you," she went on.

"Sounds good," I told her.

As family members finished their meals, and began scooting their chairs away from the table, talking, I was still picking

at my food.

I started to stand up, too, but Hannah said, "You've hardly touched your food, Harlie."

"I'll grab a snack before bed," I promised.

Hannah gave me a dubious look. "Hmm," she said.

"I will," I assured her, standing up and resting one knee on my chair.

Adam, passing behind my chair on his way to the sink, paused. "Finish your supper," he said.

I turned to look up at him. "I'm just not hungry, Adam."

"Remember what the doctor said? Sometimes you have to eat, even if you're not hungry," he reminded me.

"I remember," I said, with a sigh. "But I'll finish it later, okay? I'll put my plate in the fridge and eat it after

awhile-"

Adam went to set his plate on the counter beside the sink. Then, pausing beside me again, he said,

"Sit down and eat, Harlie."

His tone was firm.

I sighed again, and sat down, muttering about my stomach hurting.

Adam paused again. "What?" he asked, and it was one of those times when the word 'what' really just means to hush up.

"I'll eat," I amended.

Adam gave me a long look, and I saw a range of emotions cross his face. Within a couple of moments, though, he just took his cup of

coffee, and went on thru to the living room.

I sat, finishing my meat and vegetables, the only one still sitting at the table, as everybody milled around the kitchen behind

me, clearing the table, and starting to wash dishes.

Eventually, there was only Evan and Guthrie, doing the dishes, and Brian, who was searching thru the cabinets as he looked

for something. And me. Eating the remaining food on my plate.

Finally, I was done. I stood up, pushing in my chair, and took my plate over to the sink, sliding it into the soapy water.

Brian, who was now leaning against the cabinets, talking to Evan and Guthrie, gave me a raised eyebrow look.

"Finally done, huh?" he asked me.

"Finally."

"Hey," he said, as I turned to go out of the kitchen.

"Huh?" I asked, turning back to look at him.

"Comere," he said.

I went over to him, and he wrapped me in the crook of his elbow, leaning into my ear.

"You've been hang-dog since you got home. What's wrong?"

I gave him a look. "I'm just down, I guess."

"Crane said it went okay at the lawyer's office."

"I don't see how he can say that," I muttered. "It was horrible."

"You know how Crane is," Brian offered. "Always seeing the bright side of things."

I shrugged. "I guess."

"It's all gonna work out," Brian said.

"If you say so," I said dully.

"I do say so. And I don't think I like the way you sound."

"How do I sound?" I asked, looking up at him.

"Like you don't believe me."

I shrugged. "I guess I don't," I told him.

Brian tightened his hold on me. "I'm gonna have to do something about this," he said, sounding considering. "What do you

boys think? Should we dunk her in the horse trough, or hoist her up the flagpole?"

I recognized his attempts at humor, trying to make me feel better.

Guthrie and Evan paused in their washing and drying of the dishes to add their input to the teasing.

"I say the flagpole," Guthrie spoke up.

"Me, too," Evan agreed.

"Ha. You guys think you're so funny," I told them.

I wanted to tell Brian to stop making jokes about it. That making light of the whole thing didn't make it any less menacing. But I knew enough

to know that was Brian's way of dealing with it all. And he was, I knew with certainty, trying to help me to feel better, too.

So I went along with the teasing. "I don't have time for the flagpole thing," I joked back lightly.

Brian gave me a wink, and turned me loose. "Well, darn it," he said. "Later then, I guess, huh?"

"Yeah. For sure," I told him. I went to head up the back stairs, pausing at the bottom, to add something more. Mostly because I knew

that Brian would appreciate my joking back, and it would make him feel better.

"If you think you're big enough," I challenged him.

Brian grinned, in appreciation of my sassy verbal comeback.

"Yeah, yeah," he said. "Challenge accepted. When you least expect it-bam! To the top of the flagpole you go, peach."

"Okay," I said, and gave a pretended bored yawn. "Better rest up, old guy."

Brian made a move towards me, playfully, and I turned to race up the stairs. I let my smile fade as soon as I was out of his eyesight.

I went to gather up my homework, and went back downstairs. I didn't feel like being alone in my room.

Everybody was just sort of sitting around the living room. Evan was watching tv, Crane was working at his desk, and Adam was sitting beside

Hannah, both of them reading the newspaper. Clare was bouncing Isaac on her lap, and intermittently Brian would take Isaac from her, having Isaac's little

feet rest on his stomach, as he talked to the baby. Guthrie and I were doing our homework, sitting next to each other on the floor, and I had just started to settle in, and feel a little calmer.

Clare went to the kitchen to make popcorn, and as she was heading that way, the phone began to ring.

"I'll get it," she offered, and went to answer.

After her 'Hello?', she didn't say anything for a couple of moments, and then she turned to face us all.

"Just a minute," I heard her say. Then, questioningly, she said, "Brian?" in a quiet voice.

Brian stood up, Isaac in the crook of his arm, and went to the telephone. "Who is it?" he asked her, reaching for the receiver.

"It's not for you," she said, and then Brian said, "Who?"

There was a moment of whispers from Clare to Brian and then Brian handed her the baby, and said tersely, "Adam."

Adam looked up from his newspaper. "What?" he said.

Brian laid the receiver down on the table, and motioned to Adam.

Clare went to sit back down, Isaac on her lap, and Adam got his feet, walking over to Brian.

They talked low, quietly, and by now everybody's attention was caught.

"Who is it?" Guthrie asked Clare.

There was a touch of color in Clare's cheeks, and she avoided Guthrie's question with a slight shake of her head.

Adam picked up the phone receiver, and said, brusquely, "This is Adam."

I set my homework to the side. I knew who was on the other end of that call. My stomach sank.

"No," Adam said, in a clipped voice. "You can't."

There was a moment where Adam listened, and then he said, even more clipped, "No. Don't call here." Then he hung up.

By now, everybody in the room was watching Adam, and Brian, and waiting for them to say something.

Adam came back to sit down, next to Hannah, but he didn't pick up the newspaper that he'd been reading. He just sat there, leaning

forward a little, and clasping his hands together.

"It was Karissa," I said, into the silence. "Wasn't it?"

"Yep," he said, looking angry.

"She wanted to talk to Harlie?" Hannah questioned him.

"That's it," Adam answered.

"Oh, gosh," Hannah said, sounding distressed.

I hesitated, moving a little so as to sit on my knees. "Why does she want to talk to me?" I asked, quietly. I really did not understand. After

what she'd done, how could she think I'd want to talk to her?

"I'm sure she has a reason," Brian said darkly, coming back over to sit next to Clare, and reaching out for Isaac.

"Maybe I should have," I offered.

Immediately I was given the full benefit of angry glares of my brothers.

"Come again?" Brian challenged me.

"Maybe I could convince her to stop all this craziness," I went on.

"We've had this conversation already, Harlie," Adam said. "You know how I feel. And you know what I told you about talking to her."

"Talking to her will serve no purpose," Brian added.

"She has some nerve, calling here," Hannah said. "I'll say that for her."

"She doesn't lack nerve," Brian agreed.

"I don't think she really thought this all through," I said. "And if someone told her what damage it's doing-maybe she would back off."

The room was silent then. I knew that I'd spoken too much, when Guthrie gave me a nudge in my side.

"You want to talk to her so badly?" Adam asked me, and his voice was so cold that I felt frightened.

"No," I began. "That's not what I meant-"

"That's what it sounds like," Adam said, and though his voice was quiet, it was harsh.

I saw Hannah reach out and touch his knee, and I knew she was trying to help.

"I told you no. And yet you're still talking about it," Adam went on ruthlessly. "So what am I supposed to think?"

I knew then that if I didn't leave the room within the next five seconds, I was going to burst into tears. Right there. In front of

everybody.

I picked up my English textbook and notebook, and scrambled to my feet, heading towards the stairs. My eyes were already

blurring with tears. I saw Crane reach out a hand to try to catch me, but I brushed on past him.

I went upstairs to my room, and shut the door. For good measure, I locked it. I threw myself onto my bed, and let my tears

have free rein.

I couldn't remember ever feeling exactly like this before. Adam had misunderstood what I was trying to say, and in that misunderstanding

he was feeling angry, and probably hurt, thinking that I wanted to talk to Karissa. I was equally hurt, though. He'd jumped to conclusions. I hadn't

meant what it sounded like. At least I didn't think I had.

I sobbed until I was tired out from it. I laid on my back, staring up at my ceiling, mopping at my wet face with Kleenex.

Of course, eventually, there came the inevitable knock on my bedroom door.

I sighed, ticking names off in my head of who I wanted on the other side of the door, and who I did not.

"Guthrie, yes. Crane, yes. Clare, yes. Evan, no. Hannah, no. Brian, No. Adam, NO!"

7b47b


	55. Seven out of ten

When I didn't answer immediately, the knocking became more forceful.

"Harlie."

I sighed, and pushed myself up off of the bed, going to the door, and turning the lock. I opened the door, and then went back to

sit on the edge of the bed, carefully avoiding his eye.

I heard him sigh, and then he came over to stand closer.

"We're all on edge over this," he said.

"Yes," I agreed, still not looking directly at him.

I felt the bed sink as he sat down next to me.

"You understand what I'm tellin' you, right?" he asked. "About not talking to her?"

"I understand."

"Will you look at me? Please?" he asked.

I sighed, and turned my face up towards his.

"We'll get thru it all, and be stronger for it," he said, sounding confident. "Right?"

"Yes, Adam," I said, and even to my own ears I sounded dubious. But if Adam heard that part of it, he chose not to comment on it.

"Okay," he said, and let out a deep breath.

After a couple of quiet moments, he said, "Have you done your shot?"

"No."

"Well, don't forget," he said.

"I won't."

"We okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said, and tried to smile at him. I didn't want to fight with Adam. I didn't want him to feel bad. I knew it had shocked and hurt him today,

when the lawyer asked the questions about abuse in our house.

"I'm sorry. For the stuff today about the abuse and all of that," I said.

Adam sighed. "Yeah. That was tough."

"If I could, I'd punch her in the nose for saying that," I said.

Adam looked at me. Not smiling exactly, but at least there was a glimmer of light in his eyes.

"Yeah?" he asked me.

"Yeah," I affirmed.

"Well, then you'd be the one accused of abuse," Adam said.

"I guess that's so," I agreed.

"So let's just not plan on beatin' anybody up. Deal?" he asked, the light in his eyes going to a definite twinkle.

"Deal."

He patted my knee, and stood up.

And he went out of the room, without saying anything more, turning at the doorway to give me a small smile.

7

The rest of the week passed slowly, mostly uneventful, though it seemed to me that there was a dark cloud hanging over the

house and the mood of everybody in it. I went to school, and did my homework. I did my chores, fitting in as many rides on Petra and old Charlie as

I could manage. The best thing about the week was being able to get my cast taken off. The x-rays showed my wrist was healed and

as good as ever. Riding home from the doctor's office with Hannah on late Thursday afternoon, I was enjoying the freedom from not carrying

the heavy cast on my arm. I kept rubbing the pale, wrinkled skin that had been covered, until Hannah laughed a little, and said,

"You're going to rub your skin totally off if you don't stop doing that."

I smiled a little. "It just feels so good to have it off."

7

When we got home, I went to change to my chore clothes, and Hannah went to help Clare with the supper preparations. As I was pulling on my jacket

to head back outside, the phone began ringing.

"I'll get it," Hannah said, coming from the kitchen, and waving me on.

I fed the goats, and refilled their water. I was just about to shut Elwood P. Dowd's gate behind me when I saw Hannah come out onto the front

porch. I watched as she stood there for a few minutes, shading her eyes against the sun. Then she crossed the yard and went into the barn.

A few minutes later, after finishing with the goats and the chickens, I headed into the barn. Hannah was still there, huddled into a group

with Adam, Brian and Crane. The talking between them stopped as soon as I came in.

I went to hang up my two feed buckets onto the back wall, and then looked curiously at them all.

"What's up?" I asked.

"Get to your chores," Brian ordered, sounding brusque.

"I'm done."

"Then go in and get started on your homework," Crane said.

"Okay," I said. I wanted to ask again what was going on, and if something was wrong, but I didn't. The set of Brian's jaw kept me

from doing that, well that and also the look on Adam's face. He looked, for lack of a better word, shell-shocked. It scared me.

I went outside the barn, and shut the door behind me, going in search of Guthrie.

He wasn't far away. I found him sitting on the side of the barn, leaning against it, alternately petting Jethro Bodine and popping black

jelly beans into his mouth.

"Hey," he greeted me. "You got your cast off, huh?"

"Yeah. Guthrie, something's going on. Everybody's in the barn, and they're talking real low. When I came in, they stopped

talking and told me to clear out."

"Maybe they just don't think it's any of your business," Guthrie said, with a grin.

"No, it's not like that," I told him. "Something's wrong. I can tell."

"Hmm," Guthrie said.

I sank down beside him on the ground, and immediately Warrior ran over to me, giving me dog kisses.

"It's something about her. I know it," I went on.

Guthrie didn't say anything, but I could tell he was concerned, too, because he stopped eating jelly beans and began his

nervous habit of popping his knuckles.

"This is all starting to really get to me, Guth," I said. "I can't take much more."

"I know."

We sat there for a few more minutes, petting and wrestling with the dogs. Evan, coming up from the pasture on the four-wheeler,

pulled to a stop not far from us, and shut it off, swinging one leg over to rest on the gas tank of the four-wheeler.

"What are you two doin'?" he asked us. "Hiding?"

"Naw," Guthrie said, while I didn't answer.

"What's goin' on?" Evan asked then.

"Something's happened," I told him. "Everybody's in the barn, talking."

"Yeah?" Evan said, and got off the four-wheeler, walking over to us.

"Try to keep calm. Don't let your imagination take over," Evan advised me.

"That's easy for you to say," I told him.

"No, it's not easy for me," Evan objected. "I'm weary of that woman's bullshit, too. I'm worried, the same as everybody."

I could tell by the look on his face that he was sincere.

"Sorry," I said.

"I love you, even if you are a giant pain most of the time," Evan finished.

I gave him a small smile. "Thanks, Ev."

When Evan had gone on his way to finish chores, Guthrie and I sat there, not saying much. I don't know how much time went by

until we heard our names being called.

"We're over here!" Guthrie called back.

Crane appeared at the side of the barn. "What are you monkeys doing?" he asked us.

"Up to no good," Guthrie joked.

"No doubt," Crane said.

Then, he said, "Supper's ready. Come inside."

Walking towards the house with Crane, Guthrie and I exchanged a look, and then I said, "Crane, what's going on?"

Crane, to his credit, didn't pretend not to understand, or say it was nothing. He put a hand on the back of my neck as we walked.

"We'll talk after supper," he said.

"How bad?" I asked him then, referring to the scale of one to ten that I'd used growing up to gauge how serious something was.

"A seven," Crane said. "But a workable seven."

What in the world was a workable seven, I thought.

7

Inside, we went directly to the kitchen, washing up at the kitchen sink, as everybody already there were putting the rest of the

food on the table.

"Hello, tootsie," Clare greeted me. "How's the wrist?" She reached out to take my arm in her hand, and look it over.

"It's good to have the cast off," I told her.

Over supper, I didn't miss the attempts by Hannah and even Brian, to draw me and Guthrie into conversation.

"What are your plans for the weekend?" Hannah was asking us.

"Kristin's off work, so probably see a movie or somethin'," Guthrie told her.

"What about you, sweetie?" Hannah asked me.

"I don't have any plans really," I said.

"You should take it easy, at least part of the time. You still need to rest up from being in the hospital," Hannah said.

I murmured an agreement, before she continued, "Why don't you have Kristen come here? She could spend the weekend, and

I'll fix up some special snacks for all you kids."

"That sounds good," Guthrie said in agreement.

"Great," I echoed.

"You kids ought to do some riding, too," Brian put in. "Kristin can handle Smoky alright, can't she?"

"She can handle him," Guthrie said.

"Maybe you should all go to the basketball game tomorrow night at school," Hannah suggested.

Guthrie and I both agreed, tentatively, to the suggestion.

After that Crane and Evan and Brian all began to talk about the score last weekend at the basketball game, and how the team was

doing this year.

I realized that Adam hadn't said anything at all during the meal, and I looked down towards him. He looked as though he was listening to

everybody's conversation, and had finished his meal, pushing back his plate, and drinking his coffee.

Finally, when almost everybody was finishing up, and stacking plates by the sink, Adam said quietly, "We need to talk to

you kids for a few minutes."

"Okay," Guthrie told him, and I nodded in reply.

It was with great anxiety and apprehension that I followed Guthrie into the living room, sitting down next to him on the couch.

Adam sat in the oversized chair, and Hannah squeezed in beside him. Brian took the seat in the chair just to my other side, and Crane sat down

next to Guthrie. Evan and Clare came in, too, and Evan sat on the arm of the couch.

"We got a call that somebody from the social services office wants to talk to the two of you," Adam began, leaning forward, and

clasping his hands together, resting his arms on his knees.

I was so stunned that I didn't say anything, and neither did Guthrie.

"They'll come to school most likely," Adam went on.

"What for?" Guthrie demanded, finding his voice.

"To talk."

"About what?" Guthrie continued, his voice rising.

"I don't know, exactly," Adam said.

I felt a knot begin in my stomach.

"It won't amount to much," Brian said, sounding confident.

"But why?" Guthrie went on. "I mean, what could they want to talk about?"

"I don't know, Guth," Adam said, sounding weary.

Crane, ever the voice of reason, broke in to add, "General questions, probably. How we do things, our family life, all of that."

"Well, that's just stupid," Guthrie said.

Crane put a hand on the back of Guthrie's head. "Easy."

Guthrie got to his feet, and stood there, in the center of the room, his hands jammed into the pockets of his jeans.

"I'm not doin' it," he announced stoutly. "I'm not talkin' to any nosy bitch."

Instead of correcting Guthrie's language, Hannah's eyes filled with tears.

That's when I knew. Exactly how frightened that she was. Instead of getting on to Guthrie, she was beginning to cry. I felt

myself began to slip.

"Guthrie-" Adam began.

"No! I won't. That's it," Guthrie said firmly.

Adam stood up, too, and stepped over to Guthrie, putting a hand on Guthrie's shoulder.

"I need you to," Adam told him. "We need you to do it. We've got to find our way out of this maze we're in."

Guthrie set his jaw, looking stubborn, but he was quiet.

"You'll do it," Adam said then, sounding more like the Adam that we knew. "Tell the truth. That's all you have to do."

Guthrie heaved a huge sigh.

"Alright?" Adam asked him.

"Alright," Guthrie said, in resignation.

"Will we be together?" I asked. "Or will they separate us?"

It was Crane who answered. "Not sure about that."

"When?" Guthrie asked then.

"They didn't say for certain. Probably soon," Adam told him.

Brian reached out, snagging my wrist, and pulled me up and over to his chair, gathering me on his lap in a tight hug.

Adam wrapped an arm around Guthrie's shoulders. "Both of you, listen to me," he said. "You answer their questions. You

act respectfully. You behave like you were raised. Alright?"

"Guthrie?" he questioned, when we were both silent.

"Alright," Guthrie agreed, sounding reluctant.

"Harlie?" Adam said, turning his gaze to me.

I nodded in answer.

"Okay, then," Adam said, with a sigh. He seemed to recover some of his outer strength. "This is a hurdle to get over. That's all it is. You

got that?"

"Yes, sir," Guthrie said.

"Yes," I said.

Guthrie went to put on his jacket.

"Where are you going?" Hannah asked, looking worried.

"Just for a walk, Hannah," Guthrie said, and then he gave her one of his crooked smiles, though I saw that it was forced. "I'll be

back in a few minutes. I promise."

When the door closed behind Guthrie, I covered my face with my hands, finding that I was shaking. I made a move to get up, but

Brian pulled me back.

"Just sit here for a minute," he said. "Get your bearings back."

I twisted to rest my face in his shoulder.

I didn't want to tell him, but I thought that it would take a lot more than a hug from him for me to get my bearings back.

7b47b


	56. Forbidden territory

We didn't have long to wait for the dreaded visit from the social worker. It was the next day, on Friday, near the end of fourth hour, when

the intercom came on, and Mrs. Wilson called both Guthrie and I to the school front office.

We met up in the hallway, coming out of our respective classrooms, and I was not encouraged my Guthrie's grim demeanor.

I wished he would crack a joke or something, but he was silent as we walked down the quiet hall.

I wished for a minute that I was little again, so I could reach out and take his hand for comfort.

The only thing said was when I asked him, really low, "Are you going to keep your promise to Adam? Are you going to be

nice?"

Guthrie gave me a look that would have silenced even the most inquisitive of people. At first I thought he wasn't going to answer me at all,

but as he held the office door open so that I could walk in ahead of him, he said, equally low, "I'll be civil. That's it."

I paused beside him, talking so low so that Mrs. Wilson couldn't overhear. "Please, Guthrie. If we act rude, they might think we weren't

raised properly, or something. It could hurt the custody case. They might think that we're bad kids. I don't want to do anything that might

make me have to go live with her!"

As I looked up into his face, I saw Guthrie's expression go thru a range of emotions. When he answered me, his voice was clipped.

"I told you I'd be civil, didn't I?"

"You told me," I agreed, still giving him an imploring look.

Guthrie heaved a sigh, and rolled his eyes heavenward. "I'll be polite," he told me.

And, though that's all he said, I could see more in his eyes, and I knew he would hang onto his temper.

"Okay," I told him, and we went on into the office.

Mrs. Wilson nodded to both of us. A woman sitting there in one of the chairs along the wall, stood up as we came in. She looked to be

in her early thirties or so. She had her hair pulled back in a severe looking knot, and was wearing a corduroy skirt and blazer. While she was

attractive enough, she looked older from the way she was dressed.

"You're Harlie?" she asked me. "And Guthrie?"

"Yes," I said, feeling nervous.

"Hello. I'm Mrs. Barber. I'm from the Stockton social service office."

I nodded at her.

"Well, I just want to visit with you both a little bit," she went on. "Where would be a good place for us to talk?"

I had no desire to stay where we might be overheard. It was already embarrassing enough for her to be here at all.

"We could go outside," I said. "To the lunch tables."

"Fine," she said. "I'll let you two lead the way."

When we'd gone outside, and found a table to sit down, I was wishing that I'd brought my jacket out. The wind was picking up.

The woman sat down on one side of the table, and Guthrie and I sat down next to each other on the other side.

"Isn't it a beautiful day out?" she asked us, in conversation.

Guthrie showed no signs of answering her, so I gave a minimal response. "Uh huh."

"Were you told that I'd be coming by to talk to you?" she asked.

"Yes. Somebody called yesterday," I offered. "And our brother told us."

"You have quite a large family, don't you?" she asked.

"Uh huh," I said, again.

"There's how many? In the family?" she asked.

"Eleven, with all of us," I said.

"A family that large is rare these days," she said, and I decided not to answer that. I thought it was a dumb thing to say, and besides,

it was none of her business.

"I understand that some of your brothers are married?" she continued.

"Two of them," I said.

"So, there were nine of you, before the marriages?" she asked.

"Eight. Isaac's our baby. He makes eleven," I said.

"A baby. How nice. You say, 'our baby'?" she asked questioningly.

"He's Adam and Hannah's baby," I clarified. "But we all feel like he's ours."

Ms. Barber gave me a look that I couldn't quite decipher.

"How nice," she said again.

"We think so," Guthrie said, speaking for the first time. I could hear the defensive tone to his voice, and I reached under the table

to give his leg a pinch.

"So, to begin with, it was you and seven brothers, Harlie?" she asked.

"Yes."

"I imagine that made for quite some interesting growing up experiences, didn't it?" she asked, and I thought to myself that she wasn't

going to trick me into saying anything detrimental of my brothers raising of me.

"I had a good childhood," I said, sounding a little prim.

"Tell me about it. About your childhood," she told me.

I hesitated, looking towards Guthrie, and then I said, slowly, "We have a ranch, so we always had a lot of animals."

She nodded, and waited, obviously wanting me to continue to talk.

"We spent a lot of time together," I added, not certain what else to say.

"Doing what?" she asked, scribbling things in a notebook.

"Swimming in the summer, fishing, horseback riding, all of that," I said.

"Camping," Guthrie added, and I sent him a grateful look for his contribution to the conversation.

"Yeah. Camping up in the mountains," I verified.

"And how old were you when your brothers married?" she asked then.

"We were eleven and twelve when Adam married Hannah. Brian and Clare got married last summer."

"And how is that? Having some sister-in-laws? I imagine that makes a difference, having some other females in the house, doesn't it?"

I looked at her, thinking cautiously. I couldn't help the feeling that she was trying to trick me into saying something negative.

"We were glad when Hannah came," I said carefully, "and we love Clare, too. But my brothers did fine with us before that."

"You're very diplomatic, Harlie," Ms. Barber said.

It was at that moment that I decided I did not like this woman. Not one bit.

"Who took care of the two of you when you were much younger?" she asked.

Guthrie and I exchanged a look.

"Everybody took care of everybody," Guthrie answered, and Ms. Barber frowned a little, and then wrote again in her

notebook.

"They took turns," I added. "We were always with someone. We weren't left alone or anything like that."

"Let's move on to more recently," she said, and I felt myself tense up even tighter.

"How do you feel, Harlie, about living with your aunt?"

For a long, long moment, I was stunned into silence. What kind of a question was that? She made it sound as though

it was a definite thing.

"I don't want to live anywhere but at home, with my family," I said, hoping I sounded firm and confident, but not rude.

"I see," she said.

I didn't think that she did see, not at all, but I forced myself to keep still. Waiting.

"How do things work in your home?" she asked then. "Who does what household duty, and those type of things?"

Another stupid question, I thought. I felt my jaw begin to ache from clenching it so tightly.

I was relieved when Guthrie answered. "We take turns. On the dishes and the cooking. Everybody does their part."

"It all sounds quite well-managed," she said.

Guthrie shrugged a little. "It works pretty well."

"But your sister-in-law, Hannah? She does quite a bit for the running of the household, I'm sure?"

"She does," Guthrie agreed. "She does most of the grocery shopping."

"Tell me about the discipline? Who's in charge of that?"

I looked at Guthrie, unsure of what to say, or what not to say.

"Any of the older guys, really," Guthrie said. He added tersely, "We don't get in much trouble. Harlie and me, I mean."

Ms. Barber scribbled in her notebook again.

"It's a rather unorthodox type of family situation, for certain," she said, and I felt Guthrie stiffen beside me.

"Ma'm?" he asked, and I knew he was offended by her comment.

"Well, just the size of your family for one thing, is uncommon. And then, the fact that you were raised by brothers, and not

your parents, well, it makes for an unusual situation. It's very interesting."

I thought that it sounded as though she thought of us as a science experiment, or something.

I sighed. My lower back was beginning to ache, from trying to sit up so straight for so long.

"It might be sort of out of the ordinary," Guthrie said, slowly, "but it's our family, and it works."

Ms. Barber focused her eyes, which I now saw were a strange shade of brown, almost black, on Guthrie, and then turned her

focus to me.

"You have diabetes, I understand?"

"Yes."

"How long since you were diagnosed?"

"Last fall," I told her.

"And how do you do with that?"

"I do as well as I can," I said, feeling my temper rise up.

"I'm sure it's difficult, though, being a teen with something as serious as diabetes?" she asked.

"It's not something I would have chosen to have," I said, my tone a little clipped.

"You were in the hospital recently?"

I blinked at her. That had only been a week ago. How had she come by that information?

"Yeah," I said, forgetting to say only 'yes' and not 'yeah'.

"And how are you feeling now? Better?"

"I feel fine," I said, determined to keep my answers close to the vest, as the old saying goes.

"What was the problem that had placed you in the hospital?" she asked then.

"It was-" I hesitated, "just a low blood sugar thing. It happens to lots of people with diabetes. It was only overnight."

More scribbling in her stupid notebook.

"How are issues resolved in the home?" she asked, but she looked only at me.

"What issues?" I asked her.

"Arguments. Disagreements."

I hesitated. I looked at Guthrie for help.

"We talk things out," Guthrie said.

"That's fine," Ms. Barber said, and then focused her attentions on me again. "Would you agree with that, Harlie?"

Did she think I would contradict Guthrie? If she thought that, then she was a special kind of stupid. I raged inwardly, but forced

myself to respond politely. "Yes. I agree with it."

"There must be situations, though, when it takes some time to work things out?" she asked then.

I hesitated, not sure what to say.

"Can you explain that a little better?" Guthrie spoke up.

There seemed to be a flicker of annoyance in the woman's eyes when she glanced at Guthrie.

"Certainly. I apologize if I'm not being clear enough."

In that moment, she succeeded in making me feel pretty darn dumb. Like a country hick who had to have things made simple for her to understand.

"When there is a disagreement," she went on, "is there sometimes yelling? Swearing?"

"We don't swear at each other," Guthrie denied, and I could feel the tension radiating from him.

"I wasn't specifically talking about you, Guthrie," Ms. Barber said. "I meant your older brothers."

"Our brothers don't swear at us," Guthrie said, speaking slowly and distinctly, as though Ms. Barber was now the stupid one.

Ms. Barber changed her tactic. "I think we're getting off the track here a bit," she said, smiling at both of us. "I'm just asking

some general questions."

"Pardon me, ma'm," Guthrie responded, "but they don't seem as though they're general questions. They feel fairly pointed, to me."

Since Guthrie had gone on ahead and seemed near to dropping his promise to stay civil, I backed him up.

"They feel that way to me, too," I told her.

A high spot of color appeared on Ms. Barber's cheeks. "I assure you, they are very basic questions. Your cooperation is all I need."

"Ma'm, we've done our darndest to be cooperative with you," Guthrie said.

I pressed my knuckles into his leg under the table, to deter him from going too far in his anger.

Guthrie gave a sigh. "We'll answer your questions. But if we could move it along, it would be great."

"My goodness, I think that's the first time that a young person told me when to end my interview," Ms. Barber said, looking a little

startled.

"Guthrie didn't mean it that way-" I began, in defense. I was getting scared by this whole thing. What if this woman went back to her

office, and made a report that said that Guthrie and I were hateful, and disrespectful? It would look as though the family hadn't taught

us manners, or correct behavior.

"I did mean it that way," Guthrie spoke over me. His voice level was calm enough, but I recognized the anger near the surface. Very near

to the surface. "We'll answer anything you want to ask us, ma'm. But not if it drags out, for no good reason."

"Understood," she said. "I do need to ask a question that's particularly difficult."

"What is it?" I asked, feeling my stomach clench. There was no way this was going to be good.

"Is there anger in your house that's sufficient enough to frighten you, Harlie?"

I thought she must be able to hear my heart pounding.

"No," I said, "Our home's not scary."

"Even when your brothers are angry with you about something?" she persisted.

I tried to dig down deep into myself, to find some poise, and grace. I knew I had to answer her somehow. Otherwise, she

would think it suspicious.

"I don't like it when they're mad at me," I said slowly, and honestly. "But I'm not afraid of them. They wouldn't hurt me."

"What about you, Guthrie?" she asked then.

Guthrie gave a huffing sort of sound, and said, "The only times I've been afraid of my brothers were when I had a reason to be."

"Meaning?" she asked.

"Meanin' that I'd done something wrong, and I was in trouble for it," Guthrie said.

"Do you feel that you've ever been abused by any of them?" she asked Guthrie.

"No, ma'm," Guthrie said firmly. "I do not."

"Harlie? The same question for you."

"They've never abused me," I said, feeling as though I was going to choke. "They wouldn't."

"Well," Ms. Barber said, and then hesitated. "Let me see. I think I've asked almost everything that I needed to."

She flipped thru her paperwork, and then put it into a tidy stack.

"Is there anything that either of you would like to ask me?" she asked.

Guthrie was silent, and I tried to meet her eye, to show her that I wasn't afraid.

"I just want you to know, our brothers, our whole family, takes good care of Guthrie and I. We have everything that we need, and-" I hesitated.

"We have a good home. It's safe, and-full of love-" I said.

"That's very nice," she said.

"Yes," I said.

And then we sat there for a couple of moments, nobody saying anything.

"Well, alright then," Ms. Barber said. "I'd like to give you each one of my cards." She reached into the pocket of her blazer, and then

held out two cards. "In case there's anything that you need, or that you decide that you want to talk to me about."

Guthrie was pressing on my leg under the table with his hand. A signal, I knew, that he was fed up, and done, and for me to stand up.

"I don't think we really need a card," I said, getting obediently to my feet.

"I wish you'd take it, just in case," she said.

In case of what? I wondered.

"No, ma'm," Guthrie said, on his feet by now, as well. "I don't think we'll need anything from you."

Mrs. Barber gave a small sigh, and stood up, too.

"I'm not the enemy. I'm really not. I just want to help you, in any way that I can," she said.

"We're fine," I said. "We really are."

"Would you like to talk a few more minutes, Harlie?" she asked me. "That way Guthrie can get back to class."

I opened my mouth to tell her no, that I was done talking, but before I could get the words out, Guthrie

said, "I'll stay with Har." His voice wasn't exactly rude, but it was definitely on the cusp of rudeness.

"Alright, Guthrie," Ms. Barber said. She looked at me again. "Is there anything else, Harlie?"

"No," I said. "There's nothing else."

She said goodbye, and walked towards the parking lot. Guthrie and I stood there for a couple of minutes, not saying anything.

"We better get back to class," he said then.

"Yeah," I said, and we walked towards the steps to go inside.

"What a bitch," Guthrie said, under his breath.

"She was, pretty much of a bitch," I agreed.

"That better be the last time we have to talk to her. Or anybody else from family services," Guthrie said.

I could hear the anger in his voice. I stopped walking down the hall and pulled at his shirt sleeve, to make him stop, too.

"Wait a minute," I said.

"What?" he asked, sounding exasperated.

"Do you blame me for all of this?"

Guthrie looked at me, and then let his gaze drift away, back towards the office doorway. "Come on, Har," he said, with a sigh.

"I want to know. Do you?" I persisted.

"Let's just forget it," Guthrie said.

"Are you going to forget it?" I countered, stressing the word 'you'.

Guthrie looked at me. "Har," he said.

"It's okay," I said, feeling emotional. "I know it's my fault, how everything came about with all of this. I understand if you

blame me for having to talk to that woman."

"I didn't say that-" Guthrie began to protest.

"Never mind. It's okay," I said, and twisted away from him, and half-ran down the hallway to the girl's bathroom. I let the heavy wooden

door go shut behind me, and made a quick investigation to see if there was anyone else besides me in there.

There wasn't. I was alone, and I wasted no time before bursting into tears. I sank down against the cold, concrete wall beside the sinks, drawing my knees

up to my chest, and wrapping my arms around them.

I was well onto the way of soaking my sleeves and the knees of my jeans with tears, when there was a light tap on the door of the bathroom.

"Har? Come on out."

When I didn't answer, Guthrie began to knock harder. "Come out, so I can talk to you, okay?" he said, thru the door.

"Go on back to class, Guthrie!" I called out to him.

"No!" I could hear him hiss. I knew he was trying not to get very loud in the hallway, so he wouldn't be overheard. "I wanna talk to you. Come

out here."

"No. I'm fine. Just leave me alone," I told him.

"I'm not gonna leave you in there, all upset. You're cryin', aren't you?"

"So what if I am?" I challenged him.

The door squeaked a little, and opened just the tiniest crack. I glared toward him, seeing just a part of his face thru the opening.

"Close the door!" I ordered.

"Not until you come out."

"I'll see you later at home," I told him.

"Maybe I'll go up to the office, and call home. I'll tell Adam what you're doin', and then you can deal with him. Or Brian," Guthrie threatened, knowing

that was likely to scare me.

"Good luck with that," I told him, and laid my head back down onto my knees.

It was quiet then, and I thought maybe Guthrie had left, and gone back to class. He would be disgusted with me, I thought, and

likely, really mad, too. It would make for an interesting ride home after school.

That's when I heard more squeaking. Then silence. Then, if I raised my head just the slightest bit, from where

I had my face buried on my knees, I could see a familiar pair of boots, and denim-clad legs. Standing right in front of me.

I raised my face in a hurry. Looking up, up, up. Into Guthrie's blue eyes.

"Are you crazy or something?" I demanded of him, having trouble believing his nerve. "Coming into the girl's bathroom!"

"Crazy. That's me," Guthrie said, and sank down to the floor, to sit beside me.

"You can't be in here!" I protested, shocked.

"Seems like I am in here," he contradicted.

"What if another girl had been in here?" I persisted.

Guthrie shrugged, and then gave me a half-grin. "You wouldn't come out. So I came in."

Still somewhat shocked, I said, "You're the only person I know who would do something so crazy!"

"Well, I couldn't leave as long as you were so upset," Guthrie said simply, as if were stating a fact.

I looked at his face, the freckles across his nose, and sighed, nearly overcome with feeling for him. He truly was a good

person. A great brother. Then I did what I'd wanted to do earlier. I reached over and took his hand in mine.

"You're crazy, Guth," I said, one more time.

7


	57. California sky

I felt a little better after Guthrie's crazy stunt, but my day didn't really improve much. In biology, I got back a quiz that I had failed.

I sighed and tucked it into my notebook. It wouldn't be a good thing for Crane to see it. At least not right now, so soon after he'd talked to me

about my grades.

As I was heading out with the rest of the kids at the end of class, I was startled, and not so glad, to have Mr. Fornelli ask me to

wait until the class had emptied.

"I'd like to talk with you a minute, Harlie," he said.

I nodded, waiting beside his desk, as he stood up, and then repositioned himself on the edge of his desk, crossing his arms.

"Is everything alright?" he asked me.

Wondering what he was getting at, I nodded. "Yes."

"Your grade is dropping fast, Harlie. Is there a reason for that?"

I felt my face turn warm in embarrassment. "I need to get it up again," I said.

"You do," Mr. Fornelli agreed. "But that's not what I asked you."

Even more embarrassed, I wasn't sure what to say. "I just haven't been studying enough, I guess," I said.

"Uh huh," he said, and then he was quiet, as if waiting for me to explain further.

"I've just had trouble keeping my mind on my work," I admitted.

"Is there something I can do to help?" he asked.

"No, sir."

"I'm not trying to lecture you, Harlie. I just want to help." His voice and his facial expression were both kind.

"Thank you," I managed. "But I'll start doing better."

"You're a good student. I don't want to see all your hard work sink away."

"Okay," I said.

After a silent few moments, Mr. Fornelli said, "You can go now, Harlie."

"Thank you," I said again, and made my escape.

7

After school, while I was waiting beside Guthrie's truck, I thought over the whole horrible day. It came to me that even though Guthrie had shown his

concern for me, and tried to make me feel better, he hadn't actually spoken the words I needed to hear. Which were, that he didn't blame me

for having to talk to the woman from family services. I was considering whether to try to approach him about it again in conversation.

When he finally appeared from the school, though, he had Kristen with him, her hand in his.

Oh. I'd forgotten about Kristen coming home with us for the weekend! Immediately my mood improved.

"Hey," I said, as we greeted each other with a hug.

"Hi!" Kristin said. We all climbed into Guthrie's truck, and Kristin and I began to chatter.

"I'm so glad I'm going to spend the whole weekend at your house!" she said.

"Me, too," I agreed.

We all three began to talk about what we should do over the weekend. I was actually feeling better. Concentrating on the weekend, and

pushing back the thoughts of the court case, and the visit from Ms. Barber.

As our house loomed into sight, Kristin was practically giddy. "I can't wait to get ahold of Isaac," she said.

"He's gotten a lot bigger since you saw him," Guthrie offered.

Guthrie parked, and we were all climbing out of the truck, when Hannah came out onto the front porch, followed by

Adam. Hannah reached out to greet Kristin with a hug.

"I'm so glad to be here," Kristin told her.

"As glad as we are to have you," Hannah said, hugging her again.

"Can I go see Isaac?" Kristin asked.

"Definitely," Hannah said, with a smile. "He's in the kitchen with Clare."

"Yay," Kristin said, and disappeared into the house.

"How are you two?" Hannah asked Guthrie and I, turning her attention to us.

"Okay," Guthrie said, with a shrug.

I was quiet, waiting for Guthrie to tell Hannah and Adam what had happened that day.

"What is it, Guthrie?" Hannah asked, looking concerned, and obviously able to tell that Guthrie was peeved about something.

"The woman from family services came today."

"Oh," Hannah said, looking startled, and then looked at Adam.

"That was quick," Adam said.

Guthrie shrugged again. "Yeah."

"Was it horrible?" Hannah asked.

"Well, there was nothin' good about it," Guthrie said, sounding disgusted. "I probably showed my bad side more than I should have."

I felt my good mood evaporating, and tried to draw my emotions close inside.

"Well. At least it's over," Hannah said, with false brightness.

Adam laid a hand on Guthrie's shoulder. "Were you respectful?" he asked Guthrie.

"I tried to be," Guthrie said, and then added, "Maybe I wasn't totally respectful though," he admitted. "She got on my nerves."

"I'll bet you did fine," Adam told him.

"Hope so," Guthrie said.

"How about you?" Adam asked, turning his attention to me.

I shrugged. "Like Guthrie said, there was nothing good about it."

Adam gave me a long look, and nobody said anything at all for a few moments.

"Any cookies, or brownies?" Guthrie asked Hannah hopefully.

"I'm sure we can find something," Hannah told him, reaching up to brush back his hair affectionately.

The two of them went inside, and left me standing there, with Adam.

"You seem pretty shook up," Adam said.

"I'm okay."

"Hmmm," Adam said then, looking at me doubtingly.

"I am, Adam. Really."

"I know it was tough for you."

"Yeah. It was. But it's over. I just want to forget about it."

Adam looked thoughtful, and then nodded. "Okay. But you can talk to me about if you want to. You know that, right?"

"I know."

As we went inside, Adam held the door for me. "I think Crane wants to talk to you."

"Okay."

I went up to change to my chore clothes. I was sitting on the edge of my bed, pulling on my old boots, when Kristin bounced into

my bedroom.

"Should we go to the basketball game tonight at school, or stay home?" she asked, sounding so happy that I gave her a look.

"It doesn't matter to me. Whatever you want to do," I told her.

"Okay. Guthrie says he'll do whatever we want." She whirled around in a circle happily. "See you downstairs, then. Oh, hey," she added,

"Crane's looking for you."

"Okay," I said, and when I'd finished pulling on my boots, I went back downstairs. I went thru the living room to the kitchen, which was

full of people, eating cookies, and talking. Guthrie had poured himself a glass of milk, and was busy dunking his cookies

in the milk.

"Have a snack," Hannah told me.

"I don't want anything," I told her.

"There's fruit. I went to the grocery store today."

I didn't want her to start fussing at me, so I got into the refrigerator, and took a plum from the assortment of fruit.

I felt a light smack on my behind, and turned to look up into Brian's face.

"What's happening?" he greeted me, sounding as though he was in a good mood.

"Not much."

"Crane's on the porch. He wants to talk to ya," Brian said.

Good grief, I thought. I took my plum, and went back thru the living room, grabbing a jacket from the hook by the door. I went out onto the

front porch, to find Crane sitting there, in the porch swing.

"Hi," I greeted him.

"Hi."

"Everybody says you want to talk to me."

"Yeah," he said. "I do." He gestured to the spot beside him on the swing. "Come sit here for a minute."

I hesitated. I could see something in his face. "What's wrong?" I asked him.

Crane patted the spot with his hand. "Come on. Sit down."

I went to sit beside him, feeling apprehensive.

"I got a phone call today," he said. "From Tony Fornelli."

My eyes widened. I know they did. I felt my stomach clench into a knot. "Oh."

"You know what it was about, right?" he asked.

"I guess."

"You do, or you don't. Which is it?" Crane asked.

Wow. This wasn't good. He was definitely irritated.

I sighed. "Yes. I know. My test that I failed this week."

"What test?" he asked then, and I wished I could kick myself.

"Isn't it about the test?" I asked.

"He didn't say anything specifically about a test," Crane said, and then he just looked at me.

I hate it when he does that. When he just looks at me and doesn't say anything.

"It wasn't technically a test," I said. "It was really a quiz."

"Yeah? Well, we definitely want to get it straight, on whether it was a test or a quiz," Crane said dryly.

I felt my face get all warm in embarrassment.

"Why is your grade in there continuing to go down?" he asked me then.

"I don't know," I said glumly.

"I bet if you think about it, you'll be able to come up with something," he said. He gave me a raised eyebrow look.

"It's the same reason as before," I said. "I can't concentrate." I waited a moment, and then when he didn't say anything,

I said, "So am I grounded?"

"We'll get there," Crane said. "I think we need to keep talking for a bit first."

"What's the use?" I asked.

When Crane's eyebrow went up another notch, I slumped back in the porch swing, crossing my arms. "If I'm going to

get grounded, I'd just as soon not keep on talking about it."

"Wow," Crane said, and rested his arm on the back of the swing. "You're full of vinegar this afternoon."

I stared off towards the pasture, watching the horses, feeling stubborn.

"It's something you need to get a handle on, right now." Crane said.

"A handle on which?" I asked. "My grades? Or my vinegary attitude?"

"Harlie."

"What?" I asked, raising my face to look at him, and making my eyes go wide.

"You're about to reach the point where you and I have an entirely different type of conversation."

And, though Crane's voice was quiet, there was no doubting that he was past just being irritated. I knew I'd pushed him

as far as I could, at least without there being vast amounts of unpleasantness.

"I'll get my grades up, Crane," I said, and sighed.

"You told me that before."

"I mean it this time," I insisted.

"Uh huh. Well, right now I'm as concerned about your attitude as I am your grades."

The door opened and Guthrie and Kristin came out, thus halting Crane and I's conversation.

"Brian and Clare say they'll go to the game with us," Kristin said. "Okay, Harlie?"

"Sure," I said.

"Will you come too, Crane?" Kristin asked him.

"Maybe so," Crane said, smiling at her.

As Guthrie and Kristin went off towards the barn, hand in hand, I gave a deep sigh. "I wish I was like Guthrie," I said, without thinking.

"How come?"

"Because Guthrie's such a good person."

"Which is something you both have in common," Crane said.

"Thanks. But you're my brother. You have to say I'm a good person."

"Actually, no I don't," Crane said. He reached out and gave the back of my head a nudge. "Sit up," he told me.

I sat up from my slumped-down position.

"Look at me," he ordered next.

I turned to look at him.

"For instance," he said, "I think you've been acting like a bratty kid for this entire conversation. Something which I have no problem at

all saying to you."

"Bratty kid, huh?" I asked, feeling my cheeks heat up.

"Right. So if I say that you're as good and decent a person as Guthrie is, then you can bet that's what I really think."

I suddenly felt like crying. Yet again. I would have thought that I'd used up all my tears earlier in the day, in the girl's restroom. But

apparently not. I felt my eyes begin to fill.

"I'm sorry for being a brat," I told him.

"Apology accepted."

I sighed, and sniffled a little. "You're such a good person, too. You really are."

"Well, thanks. There's a bunch of good people around here then, isn't there?"

I nodded at him, and reached up to brush my wet face. I wasn't crying flat-out, just more of a dribble here and there.

"That lady came today," I told him. "The one from family services."

"I know. Adam told me." Crane's hand rested on the back of my neck. "Not one of the best days, huh?"

"No. It's been sucky. From beginning to end."

"Yeah." His hand dropped to my shoulder, and he pulled me over closer.

We sat there in silence for a few minutes. Every little while Crane would set the swing in gentle motion with the toe of his boot.

"So can I go to the game tonight?" I asked him.

"Yeah. You can go."

"So I'm not grounded?" I asked hopefully, looking up at him.

"I didn't say that."

"Oh," I said, disappointed.

"You can go tonight, since Kristin's here and all, but the rest of the weekend you stay home. And after that, you don't go anywhere

until your grades are up."

Even though I'd known he would most likely ground me, I was still subdued about it. I mean, who wants to be grounded?

When I didn't answer, he said, "We clear?"

"Yes. We're clear," I said, with a sigh.

"Okay."

"I guess I'd better do my chores," I said.

"Yeah." And, as I moved to get up, Crane caught at my wrist. "You know how you said your day's been sucky from beginning to end?"

"Uh huh," I said.

"Well, it's not really the end yet. There's still some of the day left. Let's see if we can make it end on a good note. Alright?"

I shrugged, not answering.

Crane tipped my chin up with his hand, so that I had to look right at him. "Alright?" he said, again, stronger than before.

"Yes. Okay," I said.

7

It was quite a crowd of McFaddens that went into the high school gym that night to watch our basketball team play a nearby school.

Brian and Clare came, along with Guthrie, Kristin and I. Evan and Nancy came a little later, finding us in the bleachers and coming to sit

with us. After the end of the first quarter of the game, I saw Steven Yager come in. He was looking over the crowd while he munched on a sack of popcorn.

When he was looking in our direction, I waved at him. He smiled, and then came up the steps of the bleachers to where we sat.

He said hello to everybody, and then when he hesitated, I asked him if he wanted to sit with us.

"Sure," he said, looking happy.

I went to the bench below where there was more room to sit, and Steven sat down beside me.

We watched the game for awhile, and Steven offered me some of his popcorn. I took a handful, and we watched and munched.

"I was wanting to talk to you," he told me, during a lull in the game.

"About what?" I asked.

"Well," he said, looking around, "Maybe someplace more quiet. Do you want to go to the Dari Kurl after the game?"

"Oh," I said, and finished with the popcorn in my mouth. I lowered my voice a little. "I don't think I can. My grades aren't so good, and

I'm grounded. After tonight, I mean."

"That's rough," he said, looking sympathetic.

"I would have liked to, though," I told him.

"Maybe we can, when you're not grounded," Steven said, sounding hopeful.

I nodded.

Our team lost the game, though not by much. As we were all standing up, and talking to people around us, Steven told me goodbye, and

disappeared into the crowd.

Riding into the game in Clare's little car had been a tight squeeze with five of us in there. So, walking out of the school building, I

pulled on Evan's shirt. "Can I tag along with you guys?" I asked.

"I've got to get home," Nancy said. "I've got to work in the morning."

When Evan didn't say anything, I asked again, "So can I ride home with you, Ev?"

"For fifty bucks," Evan told me, jokingly.

"I don't have fifty dollars," I said, glumly.

"I'm just joking with you, knothead," he said. "Yeah, you can ride with me."

I turned to call back to Brian that I was riding with Evan, and after the three of us were in the cab of Evan's truck, he pulled out onto

the highway, heading back to Murphys.

Evan and Nancy were holding hands, while he drove with the other hand. Nancy spoke up, "You've been quiet tonight. Are you okay?"

"Just a lot on my mind," I said.

"I know it's all going to work out," Nancy said, and I knew she was referring to the whole Karissa debacle.

"I hope so."

It didn't take long to get to Nancy's house, and once we were there, Evan got out so Nancy could slide out after him. She turned to me.

"How about we hang out tomorrow?" she asked me.

"I can't go anywhere. I'm grounded."

"What'd you do now?" Nancy asked, giving me a nudge in my ribs.

"Bad grades."

"Well, I'll come over then. We can make cookies, or something."

"Okay," I said, cheering up a little. "Thanks, Nancy."

Nancy said goodbye and slid out of the truck. Evan walked her to the door, and they stood in the darkness of the front porch for a few

minutes, and then Evan was back, hopping into the truck, and slamming the door.

As he turned a U-turn from Nancy's driveway, and we were heading on the road toward home, I said,

"I'm glad about Nancy. That you're with her, I mean. She's awfully nice."

"Yeah. She is," Evan said in agreement.

"I've always thought she was nice, but after that night at the party, when I got sick, and lost my boot and all that, that's when I found

out how great she really is," I added.

"She's special," Evan said.

After that we faded into quiet for a few minutes, and then Evan picked up the conversation again, as if there hadn't been a pause at

all.

"I'm glad you feel that way about her," he said.

"I think we all feel that way. I know Adam likes her, too."

"Yeah?" Evan asked, and I could tell he wanted to know more.

"Yeah. He says she has a good head on her shoulders," I said, repeating what I'd heard Adam say about Nancy.

"That's good," Evan said, sounding pleased. "I'm gonna marry her, you know."

I looked over at Evan, trying to make out his face in the darkness. "I'm glad, Ev!" I said happily.

"Well, not this minute," Evan amended. "Someday, though."

"That'll be good," I said.

Another quiet bit of time, but it was a comfortable sort of silence. Not the kind where you feel like you have to talk. But the kind

where it's okay to just be still. At least that's how I felt. I don't know if Evan felt the same.

"Somebody from family services came to school today," I said.

"Yeah? Was it real bad?" Evan asked.

"Yeah. It was horrible. Guthrie got mad, and this lady just kept asking these questions, like who does the laundry and do we

like having Hannah around. Stupid stuff like that."

"It does sound stupid," Evan agreed.

"And if Adam and Brian are abusive," I said, in a quieter voice. "She asked that."

"She asked that?" Evan asked, sounding outraged.

"Yeah." I studied him again in the darkness.

"Man." I heard Evan sigh. "Well, hopefully she got what she needed, and that's the end of it."

"Maybe," I said,

We'd reached the end of our long driveway, and I asked Evan to stop.

"I want to walk up," I told him.

"How come?"

"I just do. I want to look at the stars."

Evan pulled to a stop. "Okay."

I got out, and waited as Evan began to pull forward. He stopped again, though, and handed my jacket out the window

to me. "Can't have you gettin' the sniffles," he told me, and I could hear the grin in his voice.

I took the jacket from him. "No. We wouldn't want that," I said.

"Don't be long, though," he said then. "For real. Alright? Everybody's worried about you."

"I won't be long," I promised.

"Okay," Evan said, and drove on up the driveway. I waited until the taillights of his truck were almost to the house, and then I started

walking, pulling on my jacket. The sky was littered with stars tonight. I thought of what Ford was always saying.

"There's nothing like a California sky at night."

7B47B


	58. Overheard

We had a outdoor get-together Saturday afternoon that stretched into the evening hours. Besides all of us McFaddens, and the same-as-McFaddens,

namely Kristin and Nancy, some of the neighbors dropped by, too, and of course, Marie.

The surprise guest of the evening was Crane's mystery lady. There was nobody more surprised than me when he came back with her in the Jeep.

Though later, I thought that I shouldn't have been that surprised. There'd been enough hints if I'd chosen to look for them. But my mind had been on

other things lately.

When she climbed out of the Jeep, and walked across the yard with Crane, she was wearing jeans and a yellow sweater, and looked entirely

different from the way I was used to seeing her.

"Hello, Harlie," she greeted me.

"Hi, Miss Noel," I said.

"Cindy," she told me with a smile.

"Cindy," I said, and smiled back.

Crane looked happy. Almost lit up inside.

As the sun started to descend, I followed Hannah as she went into the house, to carry more food out. It had been unamimously decided

for a bonfire to be built, and Hannah had gone in search of marshmallows to roast.

She began going thru the cabinets in the pantry. "It seems as though I saw some marshmallows around here," she said.

"Me, too," I agreed. "But I bet the boys ate them already."

"Hmmm," she said, hesitating and leaning against the cabinet in thought.

"Maybe there's some in the freezer downstairs," I suggested.

"Maybe so. Would you go see?" she asked me.

"Okay," I said, and went down the back stairs to the basement. I turned on the all the lights and went to the freezer against the far

wall. It's so old that the lid has to be propped up with a board to hold it open. I did that, and then stepped onto a wooden stool to lean over and start

sorting thru the freezer. Packed with meat, and vegetables from our garden that Hannah had bagged up, I hadn't moved very much before my

hands were feeling frozen.

"Find anything?" Hannah called down to me.

"Not yet," I called back. "I don't think we have any."

"I'll see if one of the boys will go get some," Hannah said. "Go on and come back up, sweetie. I'm going back out."

"Okay," I called to her.

I started to step down from the stool, and bumped the board, and, of course, predictably, the lid fell with a vengeance on the top of my head.

I swore, "Bat shit! Bat shit!"

I stepped down, rubbing my head, and tossed the board across the room for good measure. It fell against the wall and hit a metal storage cabinet,

making a loud, clanging noise.

In a fury of temper I began to pick up nearby items and fling them at the cabinet, enjoying the sound. I had just flung two plastic buckets at it,

and when they didn't make a loud enough noise to suit me, I picked up the wooden stool. I had it raised above my head, ready to toss,

when there was a clearing of somebody's throat.

I turned, startled, to see Brian standing there. He was leaning on the bannister, watching.

I lowered the stool down to my side. "How long have you been standing there?" I asked him.

"Long enough."

"I thought everybody was outside," I said.

"I came in to get some more lemonade."

"Oh," I said, feeling embarrassed. He was regarding me with a serious expression, but he didn't look angry.

"Maybe it's a good thing that I came back inside, huh?" he asked. "So I could save that innocent cabinet from bein' murdered?"

I gave him a half-smile. "Yeah. Maybe so," I said, and set the stool on the floor.

Brian came down the last couple of steps, and walked closer, his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

"You're pretty angry, huh, peach?"

"Yeah. I am." There was a certain relief in saying it, out loud that way, at last.

"The custody thing, mostly?" he asked.

"Mostly." I sighed. "And anything that has to do with it."

"It'll pass," he said.

"Not soon enough."

He gave me a sad sort of look, as if he wasn't sure what to say. "I'm mad, too," he offered.

"Yeah?" I asked, looking at him with interest.

"Yeah. I'm pissed as hell. If I could, I'd take care of it in my own way. But, since that's not an option, we're just gonna have to

wait it out."

"You could take care of it your way," I said, only half-joking.

"I could, but I don't think the judge would be pleased."

"I guess not," I said.

"I'd end up behind bars, most likely," Brian said.

"That would be bad," I said, and this time I smiled at him for real. We'd crossed from serious to what I knew was joking.

Brian took the end of my braid in his hand and twirled it back and forth.

"I don't look so good in stripes," he said, and winked at me.

"No," I said, going along with his teasing. "Stripes definitely are not a good look for you."

"Yeah?" he countered.

"Yeah," I said, and he wrapped his arm around my neck, rubbing the top of my head with his knuckles.

7

On Monday afternoon, when Guthrie and I got home from school, and went inside to change our clothes, Hannah was there

to greet us, as usual.

She asked about our day, just like always, but I felt as though there was something off about her. She seemed to be forcing

herself to act cheerful.

"How does tacos sound for supper?" she asked us.

"Sounds good," Guthrie said.

"Fine," I echoed.

As she went back off towards the kitchen, Guthrie and I exchanged looks.

"Now what?" I asked.

Guthrie shrugged, and we went our separate ways. When I was finishing with feeding the goats, and closing the gate, I saw Adam and Crane

coming up thru the pasture on four wheelers. Crane waved, and I waved back.

They parked, and got off, and then stood talking for a few minutes. Nothing unusual in that, so I stopped paying attention. I was scratching Elwood P.

Dowd's head when they both started walking my direction.

They came to lean on the fence, and I squeezed thru the center of the fence.

"Hi," I greeted them.

"Hey," Adam said.

"How was school?" Crane asked.

I shrugged. "Okay."

"You got a lot of homework?" Crane asked.

"Some. Another quiz in biology tomorrow. And a test in English to study for."

"Okay. I'll help you study for the biology."

"Okay."

I sensed it rather than being certain. Maybe I was just getting so that I expected something to always be happening to cause turmoil. It wasn't a fun

way to live.

"Has something else happened?" I asked.

"John called today," Adam began.

"Bad news?" I asked anxiously. "I swear, if it is-"

"Settle down," Adam said. "John says everything's going along about like he'd expect."

"Oh," I said. "Well, then what is it? Because I can tell from your faces that it's something."

"The woman from family services, Ms. Barbee?" Adam began.

"Barber," I corrected.

"Barber. She apparently got the impression that you were reluctant to talk in front of Guthrie the other day."

I stood there, staring at Adam in temporary disbelief. "You're kidding."

"No. That's what she said, I guess."

"Well, that's just stupid!" I said with spirit.

"She'd like to talk to you again. Alone," Adam said.

"No way!" I said, raising my voice.

When they both just stood there, looking at me with similar sad and sympathetic expressions, I straightened to my full height.

"I'm not going to do it!" I announced.

Adam reached out and rubbed my shoulder. "Settle down," he said again.

He was looking at me full-on, his eyes sad, and kind.

I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself. "Do I have to, Adam?" I asked, all my bluster gone as quickly as it had come.

"John says it's not something the court will require. You've already talked once."

"Okay. That's good," I said, in relief.

"Uh huh," Adam said, but again I sensed something more.

"Is it something I should do, though?" I asked then. "I mean, will it hurt the case if I don't?"

"John doesn't think so," Adam said.

"Okay."

We walked towards the house together, and once we were inside, I got started on my homework. After supper, I spent the rest of the

evening studying for biology, and working on an essay for my Wednesday night class. When I was getting ready to head up to bed, I paused

beside the edge of the couch, where Adam was sitting beside Hannah, a cup of coffee in his hand.

"Going to bed, sweetie?" Hannah asked.

"Yeah." I hesitated. "Adam?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you think I should talk to Ms. Barber again?"

Adam looked up at me. "I told you, John said you don't have to."

"I know. But I'm asking what you think."

Adam's face softened a little. "No. I don't think you need to."

"Okay," I said, feeling a little better.

I gave them both a hug and went up the stairs to bed. I was tired, and I went to sleep right away, I think. Sometime later I woke up,

a nagging headache beginning. I went downstairs the back way, to the kitchen, where I got a glass of juice, and shook a couple of Tylenol

out of the bottle that was kept in the kitchen window. I swallowed them and then took my glass of juice and went thru to the living room.

Only one of the lamps was still on, and I heard voices coming from the front porch.

I was close enough that I could catch snippets of the conversation thru the screen door. Enough to know that it was Brian. And Adam.

I was fairly certain I heard my name. I stepped closer to the door, staying to the side so they wouldn't see me.

It was hard to make out for certain, but I thought that it was Brian's shadow standing, and Adam sitting in the porch swing.

"You can't, Adam," Brian was saying.

There was a sound then, a strange sound. Like choking almost.

"I don't know how I'd let her go," Adam said, in a raspy sounding voice.

"Lord, no, neither do I," Brian said.

I pressed a hand to my mouth, trying to hold back my own emotions. They were talking about me. I was sure of it. And Adam was-crying? Or

at least he was close to it, it sounded like.

"She's our baby, Brian," Adam said then, and his voice broke. "Our baby."

"I'm tellin' you, there's nothing or nobody that's gonna take any of our kids from us. You hear me?" Brian said, his voice rough, and I

saw his shadow lean towards Adam's.

"Yeah," Adam said, sounding hoarse, like somebody does as they start losing their voice to laryngitis.

I heard their boots scuffing the porch floor, and I turned to race up the stairs, not wanting them to know that I'd overheard them talking.

I spilled some of the juice as I ran, but I didn't stop to clean it up. I made it to my room, shutting the door, and setting the glass down before

I lost control of myself. I buried my face in my pillow, and cried.

My strong, solid brothers, who'd always seemed larger than life to me. To see them, lost in their own fear and sadness that way. Grieving. Worrying. In their own need.

I cried until there was nothing left, and then I laid awake, staring at the ceiling, and making plans. I knew what I had to do.

7


	59. Plan in place

The next day was a Tuesday, and I was busy making plans in my head, thinking, and plotting. I tried to rouse myself at school

to pay attention in classes. I worked extra hard in study hall, instead of talking so much with the other kids like I usually do. I figured I needed to do as much at school as possible. When I handed in my biology quiz, I knew that I'd Aced it, or if not that, for sure it would be a high B.

I didn't allow to myself to focus on all those plans in my head. At least until after school, when Guthrie and I were riding home

together after school.

I was looking out the window as we drove along, not really seeing anything that we passed by, but deep in thought.

"Hey!" Guthrie said, loudly, and I snapped to attention, turning to look at him.

"What?" I demanded.

"I've said your name like a hundred times," he informed me.

"Oh, a hundred, huh?"

"Yeah. You're off in another world somewhere."

"Just have a lot to think about," I said.

Guthrie gave me a sympathetic look. "Want some gum?" he offered, holding out a pack of Juicy Fruit.

I shook my head in refusal.

"Oh, come on," he persisted.

"Fine," I said shortly, and took a stick of gum from the pack. "You know, contrary to what you seem to think, gum doesn't

cure the world's problems."

"Yeah. Well, it helps," Guthrie said, and grinned at me.

"Oh, okay," I said, dryly, and tossed my gum wrapper onto the floor of the truck.

"Wanna talk about it?" he offered then.

I briefly considered it, but then I knew I shouldn't. It was better than Guthrie knew nothing beforehand about what I planned to

do.

"No," I said, and then, realizing that I'd sounded a little short with him, I added, "Thanks, though."

"Okay," he said, and turned up the radio.

I went back to looking out my window, planning.

7

I did my chores when we got home, after I'd changed my clothes. When I was done with the goats and helping Hannah gather in the clothes

off the clothesline, I went to look for Adam or Brian.

They were both together, standing near the back of the barn, and surveying the field to the west.

"It would take time," Brian was saying.

"We don't have the time," Adam said.

"You're gettin' impatient in your old age," Brian told him.

I wondered, just for an instant, what they were talking about. But I just didn't have the energy or the interest, right then, to really find out.

I waited there quiet, for a couple of minutes, leaning against the side of the barn, while they kept talking. Finally, they both stopped and looked at me.

"What's up, buttercup?" Brian asked me.

I shrugged. "Not much."

"How was school?" Adam asked.

"Alright," I said, non-committingly.

"Nothing exciting, huh?" Brian asked.

"Nope."

"Just as boring as when I was in school," Brian said, with a guffaw.

"Did you need somethin', sugar?" Adam asked me.

"I've got my chores done. I just wondered if you had anything else for me to do."

Adam looked at Brian and then said, "I don't think so, right now. You can help Hannah or start your homework."

"Okay." I hesitated a moment. "I was wanting to ask you something."

"What is it?" Adam asked.

"Tomorrow night, before my night class, I was wondering if I could stay around town."

Adam looked at me dubiously. "While you're grounded?" he asked me. "I don't think hanging around the Dari Kurl with your friends is gonna help you get your grades up."

"I didn't mean so I could hang around the Dari Kurl," I told him.

"What then?" he asked. "Library?"

I licked my lips, choosing my words with care. If I could, I didn't want to lie anymore than absolutely necessary to accomplish my goals.

"It would help to go to the library, for sure," I said. I paused, and then said, "I've got a lot of homework and research to do."

I waited. Adam, and Brian, too, were going to assume exactly what I wanted them to assume. That being, that I planned to inhabit the library between the close of school and the beginning of night class.

"What about supper?" Adam asked me then.

"I'll pack something and take."

They were both watching me, looking thoughtful.

"Something nutritious," I tossed in.

"It's alright with me," Adam said. "You better ask Crane, though."

"Oh, why?" I protested.

"You know why," Adam told me.

"Okay," I said, not wanting to waste time arguing about it.

I started to walk away, towards the house, but Brian reached out to catch my wrist.

"You haven't driven your truck for a while, have you?" he asked.

"Not for a week or so-"

"You have a full tank of gas?" he asked.

"Close to it, I think," I told him, though in honesty, I had no idea at all.

"I'll check the oil and everything," Brian said then. "I don't want you out in it alone after dark if there's anything that needs doin'."

That made me stop a minute in my frantic thoughts. I looked up into his face, and then gave him an impulsive hard hug around his waist.

"Thanks, Bri," I said.

Just as quickly, I let him go, and did the same to Adam, pressing my cheek into the middle of his chest.

Adam hugged me, too, and patted my back.

"Thank you, too, Adam," I said.

"What'd I do?" Adam asked me, looking down at me with a halfway grin.

I stepped back a little, looking at them both. I got ahold of my emotions as tight as I could, remembering their conversation on the front

porch the night before. The conversation that they believed had been private. The one they had no idea that I'd overheard. I would have told them I'd been listening, but I didn't really want them to know I'd been eavesdropping. Besides, I figured they'd be embarrassed that I'd heard them in all that emotion. They are both definitely the he-man type.

So instead I said, "You do a lot. All the time. And I appreciate it."

"Well, thanks, sugar," Adam said, looking surprised.

"You both do so much," I said, including Brian in my look. "And I want you to know that I don't want it to be one-sided. I want to take care of you guys, too."

"That's sweet, peach," Brian said. "But Adam and I can take care of ourselves." He was smiling a little, and I knew that neither one of them had any idea what I really meant by my statement.

"Right," Adam agreed. "But if you want to make me some molasses cookies sometime, I'd be glad to accept that kind of help."

He was teasing me now, and I knew it.

I just nodded, and said, "Okay. Molasses cookies. Got it."

I started walking backwards for a few steps. "But I am going to take care of you both," I said again, in a firm voice. "Nobody's going

to hurt either one of you."

I turned around and sprinted towards the house.

7

It was while I was setting the table for supper that Crane came into the kitchen, rolling up his shirt sleeves and starting to wash his hands at the kitchen sink.

I paused, holding the bundle of silverware in my hand.

"Crane?"

"What?"

"Tomorrow afternoon, after school, I was hoping that I could stay around town, until night class starts." Again, I chose my next words carefully, saying truth, without implicating myself. "I have plenty of work that I could do at the library."

There. That was truth. There was, indeed, plenty of work that I could do at the library. It just didn't happen to be what I was going to do.

Crane turned from his hand-washing to face me, leaning against the sink, and drying his hands on a towel.

He was looking thoughtful, without answering right away, and I tacked on, "I talked to Adam about it."

"What'd Adam say?" he asked me.

"He said I had to ask you," I told him honestly. "Since you're the one who grounded me."

"Hmm."

"Adam thought it was so I could run around, and hang out with Lori or something. But I told him that wasn't it at all."

There. More truth. I had no intention of hanging out with friends. I had bigger fish to fry, as they say.

"It's alright with me," he said then, and I felt relief, at the same time as I felt sort of depressed, and a knot in my stomach. Contrary to what it seems, I really do NOT like lying to my brothers. Especially to Crane. He's so kind. Sort of like a teddy bear. Only a skinny bear.

"Okay. Thanks," I said.

He was still looking at me, and I tried to meet his eye, but I just couldn't do it. I turned back to my table-setting job.

"I did good on the biology quiz today," I told him.

"Mr. Fornelli hand them back to you already?" he asked.

"No. I just know I did well."

"Good job," he said, sounding approving. And with the warm sound of approval in Crane's voice,

I felt that knot in my stomach get a little harder.

7

The rest of the night I was quieter than normal. I know that I was, because everybody kept commenting on it.

As if it was one of the seven wonders of the world or something.

I was eating my supper, minding my own business, when Hannah asked me twice if I was alright, or was I feeling bad?

Then Clare asked if I'd checked my blood sugar levels. I'd barely gotten the two of them to stop fussing, when Evan

spoke up across the table from me.

"Hey, Rick McRae caught me today in town," Evan said. "He wanted to know if you were still wantin' to sell the El Camino."

I looked up from my forkful of green beans. "I didn't know he wanted to buy it," I said.

"I guess Ford said somethin' to him when he was home one weekend. That you might want to sell it," Evan said, reaching

for another biscuit from the plate in the center of the table.

"Oh." I thought that over for a minute. I hadn't given the El Camino more than a passing bit of thought or attention in a long time. For an

instant, I felt guilty. My brothers had been so excited when they gave it to me for my birthday. And then they'd put in extra time and money trying to fix it up.

I subsided into quiet again, finishing the food on my plate, but refusing when Hannah tried to get me to take more.

I was helping clear the table, waiting for the phone to ring. I'd told Lori exactly what time to call. I was watching the clock

on the kitchen wall. She was late calling. I was startled when Evan gave me a poke in the ribs.

"What's eating you?" he demanded.

"Nothing. Why?"

"You haven't said two words. I've never heard you go so long without talkin'."

I gave Evan a half-hearted shove to get past him. "Maybe I don't have anything to say," I told him.

"Whoo whee," he whistled. "That'll be the day."

"Shut up, Ev," I said, and kept listening for the phone. Finally, I heard it ringing in the living room.

"I'll get it," Guthrie said, taking his half-full glass of milk, and heading that way.

I waited, my heart pounding a little, until Guthrie reappeared at the door of the kitchen. "Lori's on the phone," he told me.

"Okay," I said, and went out to the phone, picking up the receiver. I said hello casually, turning around so that I was facing the room and

could watch the family's coming and goings. Crane came into the room, going to the desk, and sifting thru paperwork.

"Sorry I'm late calling," Lori said. "My dad was using the phone."

"It's okay," I said, watching Crane.

The minute that Crane left the room, I took my opportunity to end my call with Lori, and dial the number I had memorized.

It had begun to ring. Once. Twice. Guthrie came thru the room, his hands full of cookies. By the third ring of the phone, I was wishing he would go.

"The Belmont Hotel. This is Clive," a voice answered.

Guthrie was between the living room and the front porch, and I thought he was far enough away so that I could speak. Though I did it quietly.

"I'd like to talk to Karissa Bonner," I said, in low voice.

"Just a moment. I'll ring her room."

After what seemed like the longest moment, the man came back onto the line.

"Mrs. Bonner's not answering," he said.

"Do you know when she might be back?" I asked.

"I'll see if she left that information."

Again, I waited. Brian chose that moment to wander into the living room. It didn't seem as though he was paying

any particular attention to me, but still, I was wary.

I faced him, keeping the phone pressed to my ear. Just to be convincing, I pretended that Lori was still talking to me.

"Oh, I didn't hear anything about that," I said airily, to the pretend Lori.

"Uh huh," I pretended onward, watching Brian as he went out onto the porch.

"She did not leave any return time information," the professional sounding voice came back onto the line. "Would you care to leave a message?"

I thought fast. There was no way I would be able to call the hotel again later. And I couldn't have Karissa calling here. So I made my mind up quickly.

"Yes. I'd like to leave a message. Would you tell her that Harlie called, and that I need her to meet me tomorrow afternoon, in the parking lot of the high school, at 4:15?"

The man repeated back my message, and then asked, "What high school, miss?"

"She'll know," I said vaguely.

"Fine, miss. I'll be certain that she gets the message."

"Thank you," I said, and hung up. Just in the nick of time, as Hannah and Clare came into the living room, Evan behind them, carrying Isaac.

"How's Lori?" Hannah asked me, with a smile.

"She's fine," I said, without looking directly at her.

7


	60. In motion

I went to upstairs to my room as quickly as I could, without causing any suspicions. I got ready for bed, and once in my

pajamas, I laid on my stomach across my bed, finishing the work I had to do before my class the next night.

The next morning, I finished my breakfast, and started packing up food for that night, like I'd promised Adam I would do.

The kitchen, as was typical for that time of the morning, was chaotic. A real zoo. Everybody eating, and talking, and

getting up and down from the table. In the midst of it all, the phone rang, and somebody went to answer it.

Hannah came to stand next to me, as I was slathering mustard on the bread for my sandwich.

"I was thinking, we haven't had a girl's day for a long time. Why don't we do something together soon?"

"Okay. Sure," I said, laying a piece of turkey on top of the mustard.

"We can talk later on about what we want to do," Hannah said, and gave me a side hug. "Make sure you take some fruit,"

she added.

She paused once more, and then cupped my chin in her hand. "You alright?" she asked, her face lined with worry. "You've

been awfully quiet lately."

"I'm fine, Hannah."

"Hmm," she said, looking doubtful, but dropping her hand from my chin.

"Really. Don't worry about me," I said.

"Well, I can't help that. Worrying about you just goes along with being a big sister." She smiled at me, still looking tired

and worried.

Her looking that way only strengthened my resolve to stop all this nonsense now. The whole family was suffering because of

this stupid custody thing.

I left shortly after that, my backpack slung over my shoulder. Adam was at the door to see Guthrie and I off, just like he was

every morning.

"You two have a good day," he told us.

Guthrie and I said goodbye and then Guthrie followed behind me, on the drive to the high school.

Guthrie and I went our separate ways at the front door of the school. I went about my day, trying to focus, and after school

I went directly to my truck in the parking lot. I thought I'd sit there, and do my homework while I waited for Karissa to show up. I was

midway thru an English vocabulary sheet when I looked up, and happened to notice that Guthrie's truck was still parked in the parking lot, too.

I saw up straighter in the seat, looking around for him. He should have been gone by now, and on his way home! I didn't want him to still

be hanging around when Karissa showed up.

When I didn't see him anywhere, I got out and went to investigate. It wasn't hard to find him. He was in the school gym, shooting hoops

with Trent and Lonnie.

"Hey, Har!" he called to me, in between shots.

"How long are you gonna be around?" I asked him, and immediately he stopped, dribbling the ball as he stood in place.

"Why?" he demanded.

"I just wondered," I said vaguely.

"I don't know. I'm gonna be goin' home here in a bit," Guthrie said, which was, actually, not an answer at all.

"I thought you were goin' to the library or somethin'," he added.

"Uh huh," I said.

I took a look at the big clock up in the gym. 3:55 p.m. I needed Guthrie to get going, and quickly. What if Karissa decided

to show up early or something? Then Guthrie would get his mad on, and be wanting to know what the heck I thought I was

up to, having Karissa come to talk.

"Come on, Guthrie!" Lonnie hollered, and Guthrie began to play the game again.

I sighed and went trudging back out to the truck. Why was nothing ever easy? I mean, nothing!

When I'd sat there for a few minutes, I saw the boys coming out of the school building, shoving each other around playfully.

I started the truck and drove out of the parking lot, towards the city library, just in case Guthrie happened to be paying attention.

Once there, I parked, facing the highway. Five minutes later Guthrie drove past, honking a greeting at me as he headed

towards home. I sighed in relief, and drove back to the school parking lot again.

I parked, and had only just begun work on the vocab worksheet again when I saw sunshine glinting on a windshield, and looked up

to see Karissa's car pulling in, to park next to me.

Suddenly, I felt incredibly nervous. Anxious about being face-to-face with her again. She was already out of the car, smoothing her

skirt, and coming around to the front of the truck.

I took a deep breath, and opened my door, closing it behind me, and leaning against the truck.

"Hello," Karissa said, smiling at me.

"Hi," I said, feeling as though that was lame, greeting her that way. After what she'd done.

"I was so glad when you called, Harlie," she said then. "You just can't imagine how glad."

Still, with her being right there in front of me, I was having trouble finding my words.

"I need to talk to you-" I said, and she nodded.

"Yes. I think it would be good if we could talk." She cast a look around the parking lot of the school. "Let's go somewhere where

we can sit down to talk."

"No," I said, stoutly, and she looked at me, surprised.

"We don't need to go anywhere," I went on. "What I have to say won't take that long."

"Alright," she said, looking at me expectedly. Waiting.

"I want you to know," I began, "that you've caused so much damage by filing this custody thing. You've hurt my whole family."

"I'm your family, too, Harlie," she said. "Even though your brothers would like you to forget that."

"Don't!" I said, raising my voice. "Don't start in on them!"

She subsided for a moment, looking at me, and I plunged on.

"I know you're family, too. At least you could have been. But you ruined that when you did this. It was wrong, and-hurtful,

and I want you to take it back. I want you to drop the case."

For a long few moments, Karissa didn't answer. She looked at me, and then she shook a cigarette out of the pack in her hand,

and lit it with her lighter. She took a long draw on it.

"Why?" she asked finally.

I stared at her in misunderstanding, surprised at her question.

"What?" I asked. "What do you mean, 'why'?"

"Have you only thought of the way it's affecting everyone at home?" she asked. "How it's making them feel?"

"Well, of course I am," I burst out, without thinking. "Do you think I like seeing my brothers in pain, and seeing Hannah try

to smile even when she's feeling so bad?"

"That's exactly right," she said, looking satisfied.

I blinked at the quickness of her mind, jumping around subject to subject.

"What's exactly right?" I demanded.

"You're worried about your brothers. And Hannah. Naturally. You wouldn't be your mother's daughter if you weren't caring

and thoughtful that way. But put away those worries for a moment. If it weren't for the family's resistance to the idea, how would

you feel then?"

"I'd feel the same," I snapped.

"I'm not so certain about that, sweetheart. I think you're reacting to their feelings, and their wounded pride."

Now she was talking about wounded pride? Honestly, she talked in riddles.

"I'm not," I denied. "I mean, that's not all I'm thinking about! I don't want to live with you! I want to stay at home, with

my family."

"I'd let you see them, you know," she said then. "As often as you liked."

"That has nothing to do with it," I argued.

"I doubt that they would say the same, though, would they?" she asked me. "They've put a stop to you seeing me now. So

I have no doubt that they'd get even more bitter against me if you were to stay with them. They'd never let me see you. We'd

have to wait until you were 18."

"You're not listening to me!" I said, resisting the urge to stamp my foot like a little kid.

"I am listening, sweetheart," she said.

"Then you're listening, but you're not HEARING," I clarified.

"It would be so wonderful. If you lived with me. You'd have every opportunity. Every chance to do whatever you wanted. Things

you'll never be able to do otherwise," Karissa insisted.

I reached deep inside, and sought the courage of my mother. Who had stood up to Karissa many times. And won. With

grace and dignity. And strength.

"You have more money than my family does," I said. "That's true. But money isn't everything."

"You're so young, Harlie. Only a very young person would say that."

"Just because you think that money is all there is, that doesn't mean everybody feels the same. And how young I am has nothing to do with it."

"I don't mean that the way it sounded," Karissa amended. "I know that there are things much more important than

money." She hesitated, and took another puff from her cigarette. "I'm expressing myself badly, I afraid."

She sighed, and then threw her cigarette to the ground, scuffing it out with her high heel.

"Let's go somewhere," she said again. "We can get a bite to eat, and talk, in a more relaxed setting."

"No," I said stubbornly.

She reached up to brush back her hair, and it was then that I saw her hand was shaking. Trembling.

"Please, Harlie."

"I can't. I have class in an hour."

"I'll have you back in plenty of time for that," she promised.

Thoughts ran thru my mind. I didn't want to go anywhere with her. But now that she'd lost her superior attitude, and seemed

more vulnerable, I thought I might actually be getting thru to her.

"You want me to drop the case," she said slowly. "I want to talk to you some more about it. Before I agree to that, I mean."

My heart leaped with hope inside. I tried to rein that hope in a bit. I tried to push back the warning thoughts that were

jumping thru my brain.

"I don't want to go very far," I said, looking at her with cautious optimism.

"Of course. Wherever you'd like," she agreed.

"We can go to the pizza place," I said.

She nodded in agreement. "Let's go in my car," she said.

Again, the warnings ran thru my brain. I shoved them back.

"Okay," I agreed, and reached into the truck to shove my wallet under the driver's seat, out of sight, and then I locked

my truck, putting the key in the pocket of my jeans.

I got into the cushy elegance of Karissa's front seat, and even at that moment of stress, I thought that it was really too bad

that Guthrie hadn't had a chance to ride in the car, and probably he never would. He would've thought it was amazing.

We pulled out of the school parking lot, and I was still trying to push down my misgivings.

If Adam knew what I was doing right now...

It took just a matter of a few minutes to get to the pizza place. Mr. Jones, who's the owner, and who was a good friend

of my dad's thru the years, smiled in greeting.

"It's Harlie," he said.

"Hi, Mr. Jones."

"How's the family?" he asked.

"Everybody's fine," I said automatically.

"What would you ladies like to order?" he asked us.

"Salad's fine," Karissa said.

"Me, too," I said. I wasn't hungry, anyway.

As Mr. Jones went to place our order, I had the nagging worry that he might see Adam somewhere, and tell him that I'd been in

with a very well dressed lady...

7

We didn't talk much until our salads had been placed in front of us, and, even then, Karissa nor I either one ate much.

I waited for her to reintroduce the subject of dropping the custody suit, but she didn't. Instead, she caught me off guard when

she started asking me about the family. First it was Ford. She wanted to know if he'd been home recently, and what he was studying

at college and all of that.

Ford is one of my favorite topics in the world, and so, before I even realized it, I was talking away about him. His classes at college, and

how he planned a double-major. I finished by telling her about Captain Jack, and how Ford had taken him on.

"Now he loves that silly old bird," I finished by saying.

Karissa was smiling in what seemed to be a genuine way. "Ford seems to be a really nice young man."

"Ford's great," I said. "He's the best."

"I can see why you feel that way about him," she said.

For a moment or so, I was side-tracked. I popped a cherry tomato in my mouth.

"So," I said, "You'll drop the custody thing?"

"I said we could talk about it," she clarified.

"Okay," I said, feeling a new sense of unease.

Karissa lit another cigarette, puffing on it, and then she leaned back a little in her chair.

"I only wanted a little piece of you, Harlie. That's all it began as. Then, well, I just didn't see any other alternative

than what I did."

"Filing something like this? There had to be something better," I objected.

"Try to understand. I'm lonely, sweetheart. The thought of having you with me, and being able to give you some fun, and

opportunities, that was what captivated me."

I hesitated, hoping for the right words. I had to get her to see things my way.

"I'm sorry that you're lonely," I said, trying to sound compassionate. "But you don't have to be. What about your husband?"

"He travels so much-" her voice trailed off a bit. "To be honest, I think our marriage is over."

"Oh. I'm sorry," I said.

"I've made many mistakes in my life," she said, and gave me a sad smile.

I thought suddenly of something that I've heard Adam say, lots of times. About how a person can't reach a certain age

in their life without making an entire slew of mistakes. But that it's important what you do with the knowledge you gain from those

mistakes.

I considered briefly, and then I asked her, "Is it okay if I tell you something?"

"You can tell me anything that you'd like to," Karissa said.

"Adam has this thing that he says. About how by the time you reach a point in your life, that you're going to have made

an enormous amount of mistakes. You wouldn't have really lived a full life if you hadn't, he says. But it's what you do with what you learned from the mistakes, that's what's really important. That's what shows your real character as a person."

"Adam's a wise soul," Karissa said, in a low tone, and I gave her a close look to see if she was being sarcastic.

It didn't appear that she was. She seemed sincere.

"He is," I agreed. Encouraged, I went on. "See, what I think is this. Even if you've made mistakes, that's okay. As long as you

don't go on and hurt people, or anything like that."

"Like you think I've done?" she asked then, and took another puff of her cigarette.

I hesitated. But I knew it was now or never. I wouldn't get another opportunity like this one.

"Yes," I said honestly. "You did the wrong thing, filing this custody case."

"And if I try to remedy this mistake, as you put it? That would show that I have a strong character?" she asked. There was something in her tone that made my nerves tingle.

"It would be the right thing," I said.

"The right thing for who, though?" she asked.

"For everybody-"

"Not for me, Harlie."

I sighed and looked her right in the eye. She stubbed out her cigarette in the ash tray on the table, and I saw that her hand was shaking again.

"I'll talk to Adam, and Brian," I said, growing desperate enough to start making promises. "Maybe if you drop it all, and a little time goes by, they might let me visit with you."

"No," she said. "They'd never do that."

"They might-" I persisted, even though I knew that it was a lie.

"No," she said again, rubbing her hand over her eyes. When she lowered her hand, I saw that she had rubbed so hard that

her eye makeup was all smeared.

More people were starting to come into the pizza parlor, and I looked at the clock near the front. It was nearly 5:45. I needed to be at class in fifteen minutes, or I'd be late.

"I need to go," I said, letting my voice trail off.

"Yes, of course," she said, and her eyes met mine across the table. There were tears standing in her eyes.

"Will you drop it? Please?" I said.

"I only want you to be happy," she said, standing up. She went to pay our dinner ticket, and I waited by the door.

As we walked out to her car again, and then once inside, she sighed, and then just sat there without starting the motor.

"Could we go for a little drive, Harlie?" she asked me.

"I can't. I have to go to class-"

"Just a short drive." She turned to face me. "Since I don't know when I'd be seeing you again after this."

Did that mean what I thought it meant? That she was going to notify her lawyer to call off the custody suit? My burst of

hope and excitement was tempered by the knowledge that I should refuse to go driving, and insist on getting to my class.

"Just for a few minutes, then," I said, hope winning out over common sense. "Just around town."

As we drove up and down the streets of Angels Camp, Karissa made conversation by pointing out several houses that she

said her real estate company would be taking on. She began sipping out of a silver glass that was sitting in the drink holder. There

was a lid on the cup, and it was the kind that will keep your drink cold or hot.

I think about twenty minutes or so went by, although I wasn't really sure. I was just about to ask her to take me back to the

high school, when she took a different road, outside of the city limits.

At first I wasn't too alarmed, but as we passed the very outskirts of houses, and were met by the open fields, I spoke up,

"I need to get back to class," I said.

"I want to show you something real quickly," she said.

I felt my unease began to grow.

"What is it?" I asked her. "I can't be much later than what I am now."

"It's not far now," she said, and took another long drink out of the silver cup.

I twisted to look at her. I was fairly certain that there was some type of alcohol in that cup. I hadn't thought that Karissa acted as

though she'd been drinking before she picked me up. But maybe she had been. She seemed to be acting a little bit 'off' now.

"I want you to stop," I said, trying to sound really firm. "I don't want to go look at anything. Turn around and take me

back to the school."

Karissa looked over at me. "It's someplace your mother used to love to go," she said. "I thought you'd like to see it."

Well, I had to admit it. For a second, and only a second, I was tempted to believe her. Where was this place that my mother

had liked to go? Then, reality came crashing back. Even if she was telling the truth, and most likely she wasn't, at that

moment I was more worried about my immediate future. Which was, basically, keeping Adam and Brian from finding out what

I'd been doing. And if I was any later to class, Miss Noel might talk to Crane about it, and then everybody would want to know where

I'd been at...

I groaned. Literally. "Ugh," I said, in irritation.

"I can't look at it right now," I said, but she just smiled at me, and said nothing, just driving.

"Maybe we can look at whatever it is another time," I said, feeling as though I had to pacify her in order to get her to take me

back. I was starting to get scared. What if she didn't turn around, but just kept on driving? I had no money in my pocket, not even enough to make a phone call. If I got so far from Angels Camp before I got her to turn around, how would I call anybody?

"We're nearly there," she said.

I clamped my mouth shut tight, biting at my lips in nerves. I would have to just wait it out.

In about another twenty minutes, Karissa pointed off to the side of the road.

"The trail's off that way. I remember, because it's beside that big white rock."

I looked towards where she was pointing. I saw a big rock, too.

"A trail going where?" I asked her.

"To a lake, as I recall. About a quarter of a mile or so." She got out of the car and came around to my side. I got out, too,

not sure what to do. When it looked as though she was going to start cutting through the grass, I protested,

"We can't just start walking thru there."

"That's probably right," she said, and gave one of her high heels a look. "These aren't exactly hiking shoes."

"No, but that's not what I meant," I told her, irritated. "I mean, that's private property. We can't just go hiking on somebody's

property."

"Alright. Maybe it was a wild idea," she said, and I sighed in relief.

"Let's get back to town," I prodded her.

She nodded in apparent agreement, and we got in the car, and she thankfully turned back towards Angels Camp.

I wondered what time it was, but since I don't wear a watch, and I didn't want to ask Karissa the time, I figured I would just

have to wait. The sun was starting to set by now, and when we hit the city limits of Angels Camp again I gave a huge sigh.

Thank goodness.

In the school parking lot, she parked, and I put my hand on the door, ready to get out.

"So you'll call your lawyer?" I prodded. "And tell them to drop everything?"

For a moment she was silent. And then she lit yet another cigarette.

"Are you sure that's really what you want, Harlie?" she asked me.

I thought her voice sounded sort of strange, but I was so happy that she seemed agreeable with the plan

that I didn't pay that much attention.

"Yes. It's what I want," I told her. "I don't want my brothers to be hurt anymore."

"Hmm," she said.

"It's what my mother would want, too," I threw in, for good measure. "She wouldn't want me to be away from

my family."

Instead of answering, Karissa opened her purse. "Let me give you some money," she said, and even as I began

protesting, she pulled out two twenty dollar bills.

"Take them. Please," she said.

"I don't think I should," I said.

She reached over and pressed the money into my hand. "You take good care, sweetheart."

I decided to just accept the money, instead of arguing with her.

"I will." I got out and then leaned down to look at her again. "You take care, too."

She only nodded, and I shut the car door, watching as she drove away.

7


	61. Confession for the soul

I went into class, feeling pretty good. I was confident that I'd convinced Karissa that the custody suit

was the wrong thing. I was congratulating myself that within the next couple of days, that our lawyer would call,

and tell Adam and Brian that she had withdrawn the suit.

I had the sudden, discomforting realization that I'd forgotten to tell Karissa not to mention it to anyone that I'd come

to see her. I tried to brush that worry away. Surely she wouldn't say anything about the two of us meeting up.

When I went inside the school building, and down the hall to the classroom, Miss Noel was in the middle of

explaining something to the class. I shut the door as quietly as I could so as not to interrupt.

She gave me a small smile and went on talking, as I sat down. I tried to focus, so I could catch up on what

they were doing, since I was late.

When it was break time, everybody stood up, and some went to the hallway to get something from the

vending machines. MIiss Noel came over to my desk, and half-sat on the desk opposite of me.

"Everything okay?" she asked.

I nodded. "Sorry about being late."

"It's alright," she said.

When she didn't say anything else, but just sat there, I felt a little uncomfortable.

"I lost track of time, I guess," I added.

"Sure. It happens."

Then she asked about my day, and if it had been a good one. We chatted for a few minutes, not about anything

really important, and then everybody else came back in, and class began again.

After class was over, I told her goodbye, and walked back out to the parking lot. I was at my truck when one of the

other women from the class called goodbye to me. I called back a goodbye, and that's when I saw that there was

something stuck between my windshield wipers.

I pulled the piece of paper free, feeling a sinking in my stomach.

The note was short. To the point. And in Karissa's neat handwriting.

"I can make no promises. Please understand".

I crumpled the note into a ball angrily, and I began to swear, pounding the hood of the truck with my fist. What was wrong with that woman?

"Harlie?" said a voice from behind me, and I jumped, startled, whirling to see Miss Noel standing there.

"Oh," I said, my heart pounding.

"I didn't mean to scare you," she said. "I heard you yelling. Are you alright?"

"Yes," I said, trying to act rational. "I'm fine."

It was obvious that she saw the paper in my hand, and I felt as though I had to offer some

explanation.

"Just a note that somebody left me," I said.

"Oh," she said, and looked concerned. "A threat or something?"

"No, nothing like that," I said quickly. "Just an annoyance."

I hoped that I sounded convincing, but Miss Noel didn't look as though she was convinced.

"Are you sure? We could call a deputy-"

"Oh, gosh no!" I said horrified. This was rapidly going from bad to worse. "It's really nothing important."

"Well, alright," she said. "But I'll stay with you if you want to talk to an officer. Or we can call your

house-"

"No, please, it's fine," I said, growing desperate.

"Alright," she said, again.

"I'll see you next week," I said, trying to sound casual, and she nodded.

I started to get into the truck, and then turned to her. I didn't know her very well. Not very well at all. So

I wasn't sure how to judge her demeanor. Or if she was the type of person that would find this odd enough to

tell Crane about.

"Would you not say anything?" I asked her. "I mean, it's nothing really. And Crane will just get worried."

For a moment, she didn't answer, and then she said, "Is it something that Crane should be worried about,

Harlie?"

That's when I knew I was in trouble. Another 'maybe sister-in-law'. I hadn't realized how simple my life

had been when it was just Hannah.

"No, it's nothing," I said again.

"Well, drive safely," she said, and began to walk to her own car, parked a distance away.

I had to be satisfied with that for an answer. I sighed, and heaved myself into the truck seat, shutting the

door, and putting on my seat belt. I straightened out the crumpled note, folded it, and shoved it in my pocket, along with

the two twenty dollar bills that she'd given me earlier.

I headed towards home, feeling a headache coming on. I opened my bag of food that I'd packed from home,

realizing that I hadn't eaten much of the salad at the pizza parlor. I ate my sandwich, and the peach that I'd

packed. Thoughts of the entire evening kept running thru my mind. What could I have done differently, I wondered?

What could I have said to convince Karissa? In frustration, I pounded the steering wheel. All the trouble I'd gone to,

to plan for the evening, and all the lies I'd told, and what had it really accomplished?

At home, I parked, and shut off my headlights, gathering up my books and backpack, and going up the porch

steps. Somebody had left the porch light on for me, and when I stepped inside, it was warm, and I realized that

I'd been feeling chilly without even noticing. I'd left my jacket in Karissa's car.

Fantastic, I thought sarcastically. My brain was out to lunch.

Hannah and Adam were sitting on the couch, close to each other, and both of them were reading. Adam a newspaper, and

Hannah a magazine.

"Hi, sweetie," Hannah greeted me. "Leave the porch light on. Evan's not home yet."

"Okay," I said, closing the front door.

"How was class tonight?" Hannah asked then, laying her magazine to the side.

"It was good."

"Did you get all your homework done at the library?" Adam asked.

"No, not all of it," I said.

"You ate though, right?" Hannah asked.

"Yes. I ate. I think I'll grab something else, though."

"There's some leftover chicken in the fridge," she told me.

"Okay." I headed towards the kitchen. I really was still hungry, and besides that, I knew if I said

I was going to eat more, that it would deflect any unwanted attention about anything else.

In the kitchen, I laid my books and backpack on the kitchen table, and washed my hands, and then

opened the refrigerator, pulling out a chicken leg, and pouring myself some juice.

I took care of my diabetes shot, and then went up the back stairs, carrying my glass, and the chicken,

and all my other stuff, too.

I was in my pajamas, and finishing my snack, cross-legged on my bed, and trying to finish my English worksheet.

There was a light tap on my door, and when I answered, Adam opened the door, coming in.

"Get your snack?" he asked, and I nodded, pointing to my chicken.

"Alright." He gave my homework a glance. "Put that away, and get to sleep. You can do it in the morning."

"Okay," I said, shoving my stuff together, and laying it on the floor in a stack.

He leaned over and kissed the top of my head. When he told me goodnight and went out, I let out a

sigh. It was hard being around Adam right then, knowing what he would say, or think, if he knew that I'd

contacted Karissa. And what good had it done me, anyway?

7

The next morning, I ate, and then tried to finish my homework. I was still working on it while riding to

school with Guthrie.

"I may shoot some hoops again today after school for awhile," Guthrie said.

"Okay," I said, without looking up from my work.

"Lately all you've been doin' is homework," Guthrie said.

"I have to get my grades up. I'm not a born genius like you are," I said, only half-joking.

When Guthrie brought up Miss Noel, I was startled.

"What do you think of her?" he was asking me.

"Why are you asking that?" I asked, giving him my full attention.

"It's just a question."

"She's nice," I said cautiously.

"She sure is pretty," Guthrie said.

There was no denying that, so I shrugged. "Yep."

"I think Crane really likes her."

"You mean, like he's serious about her, you think?" I asked.

Guthrie shrugged. "I dunno. It's hard to tell with Crane. But he seems like he might be."

"Hmm," I said, in thought.

7

That afternoon when Guthrie and I got home from school, most everybody was in the south field, on horseback,

rounding up the calves. Even Hannah was there, perched atop of old Charlie.

"You kids come help!" Brian called to us.

From where we stood, I made a gesture down myself, reminding him I still had on school clothes. Brian waved

a hand to say not to worry about it.

Guthrie and I went to saddle our horses, and rode out to help. As it always is when I'm on horseback, I was

able to forget for a bit about my worries.

When we all finished, and trooped inside the house, we were met with the appealing smell of roast, and Clare came

forward to greet everybody, giving Brian a quick kiss, and holding Isaac in her arms.

"Supper's ready whenever you all are," she said.

"It smells good," Adam told her, with a smile.

We all went to wash up, and eat supper. I ate two bowls of the beef stew, and a roll. I slathered jelly on the

roll, and was in the midst of my first bite of it when Hannah said, "I did a load of your laundry today," to me.

"Okay. Thanks," I told her.

"I checked your pockets before I washed your jeans," she said.

I met her eyes then, feeling panicked. "Oh."

"I put the money in your dresser drawer," she said, and began to eat again.

"Okay." I hesitated, watching her face.

Hannah would know full well that I hadn't had an opportunity to earn any money in a very long while.

And she would wonder what that cryptic message in the note meant, although she hadn't mentioned that.

I bit at my lip, wondering how to ask her about the note.

"I put the note in the drawer, too," Hannah said, her blue eyes flicking over me.

"Okay," I said. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she said, and I could hear so much else in those two little words.

I felt my face turn hot, but Hannah didn't say anything else. She went on eating, and talking to Evan on her

other side.

After supper, I checked the dishwashing chart. I wasn't on, so I made my escape upstairs. I had to think things

out. I was in my bedroom, after my shower, and I'd left my bedroom door open.

"Hey," Adam said, from the doorway.

"Hi," I said, looking up.

He looked serious. Thoughtful. I felt my stomach knot up. Had Hannah told him about the note?

"I wanted to talk to you for a couple of minutes," he said.

"Okay," I said, picking up my pillow and clutching it to my chest.

Adam sat down on the edge of my bed. "We got a call today from John," he said.

The knot in my stomach grew tighter.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"The two lawyers have suggested that we have a meeting with Karissa."

"Why?"

"I'm not sure. She contacted her lawyer today, I guess, and told him she'd like to meet with us, and so John

called, and asked Brian and I what we thought about it."

For a moment I was silent, not knowing what to think.

"Why would she want to meet, though?" I asked.

"I don't know, sugar," Adam said. "I guess we'll find that out."

"You're going to go?" I asked, alarmed.

Adam gave me a puzzled look. "Well, yeah. Going off of what John said, we might as well."

"But what if she just wants to-" I hesitated, "to fight or something?"

"Well, then we'll just get up and walk out. Besides, I'm sure that her lawyer won't encourage that."

I hugged the pillow tighter to me. In my head, I was trying to figure out why Karissa would have

suggested this meeting. And today of all days? It was just too much of a coincidence that it happened so

soon after last night's debacle.

Adam, misunderstanding my look of worry, gave my knee a pat. "Don't look so scared," he said.

"Well, but-" I began, and then stopped talking.

"But, what?" Adam prompted.

I shrugged. "I don't know," I mumbled, looking at him. Part of me wished that he could just read my mind,

and know everything, and thus free me from the guilt I was feeling. But the rational part of me, the part that knew

I could confess to him on my own, that part was speaking loudly to my conscience.

But, in the end, I just didn't have the courage to face his wrath.

"Nothing," I said.

"Don't get all worked up about it," Adam said, getting to his feet. "I'm sure it'll be fine."

"When is it?" I asked tremulously. "The meeting?"

"Saturday morning."

"What time do we have to go?" I asked then.

"There's no 'we'," Adam said. "It's Brian and I. Not you."

"Oh." I wasn't sure if that was good, or bad.

"I just wanted you to know what was going on," Adam said, and gave me a half-smile.

"Okay."

He left, and I sat there, not able to concentrate on any of my homework after that. I just sat, and got more and

more worked up, and worried. I finally gave up, and went downstairs, passing thru the living room, where Evan

and Guthrie were watching a western movie on television.

I went to the kitchen, and found Clare and Brian there, Brian at the stove, pouring hot chocolate into two cups.

"Hi, toots," Clare greeted me.

I said hi, and Brian turned to ask, "Want some hot chocolate?"

I nodded in agreement, and he told me to get myself a cup from the cabinet.

I did that, and set it on the counter by the stove.

"I'm heading upstairs," Clare was saying.

"I'll be up in a couple of minutes," Brian told her. He poured steaming hot chocolate into my cup, and

set the empty pan in the sink, running water in it.

"There you go," he told me.

"Thanks," I said, picking up the cup, and blowing on it.

I watched Brian out of the corner of my eye, trying not to be obvious about it.

"Adam told me about the meeting with Karissa," I began.

"Yep." He gave me a look. "Just another hurdle to get over."

I bit at my lip. "I guess," I said.

Brian leaned against the counter, sipping at his drink.

"Bri?"

"What?"

"If a person does something, and their motives for doing it are right, does it sort of cancel out the wrong

part of it?"

Brian gave me a full-on look, that suggested I was somewhat loony.

"Come again?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, I mean, if a person does something that wasn't necessarily the right thing, but they do it to

protect someone else from being hurt, that makes it not be so bad, doesn't it?"

Brian's eyebrow went up another notch. "Clear as mud," he said drily, and then added, "Has some wrong

been done?"

I shrugged, watching him over the top of my cup.

"I get the feelin' that you're tryin' really hard to tell me something, peach," he said.

When I didn't say anything, he said, "Am I right?"

"Maybe."

Brian put his cup in the sink, and said, "Why don't you just tell me, whatever it is? Instead of doing

this twenty questions thing."

"Maybe because I'm worried to tell you," I admitted.

"How come?" he asked.

"I don't want you to be mad at me," I said, really quietly.

"And you think I'll be mad, huh?"

I nodded at him.

"What is it, Harlie?" he asked, sounding impatient.

I looked at his face, and suddenly the last few days seemed overwhelming to me. I felt my eyes fill

with tears.

"This whole thing is getting to me, Bri!" I said emotionally. "Every day it's something else about it!

Every single day!"

Brian sat down in one of the kitchen chairs. "Comere," he told me, patting his knee.

"Clare's waiting for you," I said. "I shouldn't be bothering you."

"Harlie," he said, and then added firmly, "Come here."

I came closer, and he took the cup of hot chocolate out of my hand, and set it on the table, and then

tugged me down to sit on his knee.

"No more hem hawing around," he said. "What's up?"

I began to cry full out. "I did something," I burst out.

"What?"

"I didn't stay in town to go to the library last night-I did it so I could talk to Karissa!" The words poured out in a burst.

I'd surprised him. I could tell. His eyes glittered and his jaw set in a hard line.

"Harlie," he said, in a drawn out way.

"She's hurting you! You and Adam! I can't stand hearing Adam talk that way!"

"Hearing him talk what way?"

"I heard you guys talking on the porch," I admitted, swiping at my wet cheek.

As it dawned on Brian what I was talking about, he said, "That was a private conversation, Harlie."

"I know! I didn't mean to listen!"

He sighed, and then said, "So you called her? Met up with her?"

I nodded.

"Where?" he asked then.

"In the school parking lot."

Brian was giving me a full-out look, his eyes snapping a little, and I felt my stomach knot tighter.

I gave way to more tears, thinking it wouldn't hurt to cry. Maybe it would soften him up.

"And how did that work out for you?" he asked. "Did you get her mind changed for her?"

I mumbled 'no' under my breath, and he popped my leg, as near to my behind as he could reach.

"Answer me," he commanded.

"No," I said, more clearly, and meeting his eyes. "Sir," I added, hoping it would help.

"Save that sir stuff," he told me. He gave me a hard look. "This isn't good," he said.

"I did it for you," I defended myself. "You and Adam! I don't want you hurt!"

"Whatever spin you put on it, it was still the wrong thing to do," he said. "You were told not to

do it. So, besides not minding us, you lied in order to get it done."

I twisted my hands together, watching his face.

"Why'd you decide to tell me?" he asked.

I shrugged, not wanting to answer, and he said, "Because you figured Karissa might just happen to mention

it on Saturday. Am I right?"

I reached out to fiddle with a button on his shirt, not meeting his eye. "I was gonna tell anyway. I know I

shouldn't have lied about it."

"Nope, you shouldn't have."

"And I know how you feel. About lying, I mean." I risked a look up at him again. "I just wanted it to be over!"

He was watching me, looking stern and angry, and I felt my stomach tighten in nerves.

"Are you going to kill me?" I asked.

"You might wish I had," he said, and my eyes teared up again.

Brian gave me a push, and I stood up. He stood up, too, and I suddenly felt really small. Like a little girl,

almost. Before I lost my nerve, I pressed my face into his chest.

"Try to understand why I did it," I pleaded.

"Harlie, for God's sake, I understand that." He reached out, and tipped my chin up. "I know it's been

real tough for you. But that's why you have Adam and I to deal with things. And when we tell you somethin',

you need to trust what we say." His hand tightened on my chin. "And obey us. Even when it's hard."

"Okay." I swallowed hard. "I'm sorry."

"Go to bed," he said, taking his hand from my chin. "It's late, and I'm beat. We'll talk about it some more this weekend."

"Adam's gonna be so mad at me," I said, thru my tears.

"No doubt," Brian agreed curtly. "Why should I have all the fun?"

7


	62. Cactus hugging

Well, not surprisingly, I didn't sleep very well that night at all. I woke up a couple of different times,

a dream disturbing my sleep. In one of the dreams, I was on a bicycle, and I was peddling as hard as I

could, but I couldn't catch up with whoever was on a bicycle in front of me. Weird.

The next morning at breakfast, Guthrie was heaping his plate full of scrambled eggs, his voice

joyful. "Last day before spring break!"

He began to stuff eggs into his mouth in large bites. "An entire week free from prison!" he proclaimed.

"Don't eat so fast, Guthrie," Hannah said, automatically.

"We'll have to find some extra chores around here to keep you busy," Crane told him.

"No need for that," Guthrie said. "I've got plenty of things planned to keep me busy."

"I'll bet you do," Crane said, with a grin.

"Fishin', fishin', and more fishin'," Guthrie added, and Evan and Crane both laughed.

Brian and Adam, on the other hand, neither one had anything much to say at all during breakfast. This fact was not lost

on me. I cast a glance in Adam's direction. He was pushing his plate away, and picking up his coffee cup. He looked my way, too,

and when our eyes met, he gave me a strained smile. I knew if he was giving me any sort of a smile at all, that Brian hadn't

shared my confession of the night before. Not yet, anyway.

Brian, on the other hand, scared me to death. I was shoving stuff into my backpack in the living room, and he put a hand on the back of my neck. It didn't hurt, but it wasn't especially gentle, either.

"Adam's got a meeting tonight," he said, when I looked up at him. "So let's have a little chat now."

"Now?" I said, horrified.

"Now's as good a time as any."

"But it's almost time to leave for school." I protested.

"Adam," Brian called thru to the kitchen, ignoring my protest.

"Bri-" I was still protesting.

I slammed my backpack onto the couch furiously. "Nothing like starting the day off with a new low," I muttered.

"Should have thought about that," Brian said, without sympathy.

As Adam came from the direction of the kitchen, with the ever-present cup of coffee in his hand, I wished I could

just cross my arms and blink myself away somewhere, like in the I Dream of Jeannie tv show.

I stepped aside the couch, so that it was between me and them, and leaned against it, fiddling with the edges of the blanket

that was laid across the back.

"What's up?" Adam asked, looking at Brian.

"Harlie has somethin' she wants to talk to you about," Brian said.

Adam turned to me. "What is it, sugar?"

I fiddled with the blanket nervously, and bit at my lower lip.

"Huh?" Adam prompted, when I didn't say anything.

Still I hesitated, and Brian spoke up, to say curtly, "Harlie."

"I talked to Karissa," I managed.

Adam's facial expression went from puzzled to furious in nothing flat.

"She called here again?" he demanded. "That lady has more nerve than I've ever seen."

"Harlie called her," Brian said.

Adam turned towards me. "No way," he said, sounding as though he didn't believe Brian.

Even at that horrible moment, I realized that Adam had been willing to give me the benefit of the

doubt, and to blame Karissa, instead of me.

"I couldn't take it anymore!" I burst out. "She just does whatever she wants! I couldn't stand

seeing you guys hurt anymore!"

"What are you talkin' about?" Adam demanded furiously.

I hesitated, looking at Brian, and he said, "Apparently, Harlie was eavesdropping the other night, when

you and I were talkin' on the porch."

Adam still looked as though he was confused, and I plunged on. "I thought if I could talk to her-that

I could convince her to stop everything."

Adam's jaw was set in a tight line, but when he spoke, his voice was quiet. Not a good sort of

quiet. "You called her?" he reiterated.

I nodded, and Brian spoke up again. "Tell him, Harlie."

"Tell me what, dammit," Adam swore.

"I met her," I said, pulling a thread from the blanket I was messing with. "I called, and left a message

for her to meet me!"

"When was this?" Adam asked, in that same ominously quiet tone.

"Wednesday afternoon."

I saw it on his face, when the pieces began to fit together. "So all of that, about going to the

library, and doing extra homework, all of that was just a bunch of bullshit? Is that right?" he demanded.

I straightened to my full height, and tried to answer him clearly, with confidence.

"Yes."

"And you got her convinced to let it all go, I'll bet," Adam said, sarcastically. "Just drop everything."

When I didn't answer, he raised his voice. A lot. "Is that right, Harlie?"

"No," I admitted.

His raised voice was drawing people from the kitchen. Hannah came in, a dishtowel in her hands,

looking worried, with Guthrie not far behind her.

"Guthrie, go on out. Harlie'll be out in a few minutes," Adam ordered.

Guthrie paused, looking worried. "Everything okay?" he asked.

"Guthrie!" Adam said harshly. "Get outside."

Guthrie stared at Adam, at first in shock, and then in anger. "Man, Adam," he said.

Hannah reached out to rub Guthrie's shoulder, but he pulled away, muttering, "No," and grabbed his backpack

off of the coffee table, going outside, and slamming the door. Hard.

I watched that horrible scene take place in front of my eyes, wincing. Just when I thought things

couldn't get any worse, they did.

"Don't yell at Guthrie," someone said. Wait. It was me.

"You'd best be worryin' about saving your own hide," Adam threatened. I felt myself wilting under

that look. Still, I felt compelled to say, "It's not Guthrie's fault. It's mine."

"You're right," Adam said, and now his voice was that horrible quiet again. He set his coffee cup on the

table with enough force that coffee sloshed out, and onto the table. He jammed his hands in

his pockets. "The one thing I asked of you, in this whole mess, was not to contact her. Not to see her. To

just let Brian and I take care of things."

I bit at my lip, feeling tears threatening. "Adam-" I began.

Adam's voice rose louder, over mine. "The one thing I told you not to do. That's the thing you do."

"I didn't want you guys hurt anymore!" I said, and my voice was raised, too.

"I don't care what your reasons were," he roared. He took a step towards me, and it was

so frightening, that I took a step back without thinking about how it would look.

"Harlie knows she did the wrong thing," Brian spoke up. I wished I could tell him to just save his

breath. His help was too little, too late.

Still it was better than nothing. "I do know that, Adam," I said.

Adam heaved a loud sigh, and ran his hand over his face.

"Go to school," he said then, quietly.

I hesitated, looking at him, not sure if I'd heard him correctly.

"Did you hear me?" he hollered again. "I said, 'go to school'!"

I grabbed my backpack from the couch and ran. Out the door, and down the front steps. All

the way to Guthrie's truck. Guthrie was already in the truck, and the motor was running. I got in, and slammed

my door.

We were all the way down the driveway, and up the road a couple of miles before I took a look

at Guthrie. His mouth was set in a tight line. I couldn't remember seeing him look so angry in a long time.

"I'm sorry Adam yelled at you," I said.

"Don't worry about it," Guthrie said, in a clipped tone.

"He was wrong to do that," I said.

"I don't wanna talk about it, Har," Guthrie said.

I subsided into a miserable silence, staring out my window. The radio was on, and the time was announced. 7:45 a.m. and my

day was ruined.

7

The only good thing that happened that day was when Mr. Fornelli handed back tests, and I saw the A at the top.

"Great job, Harlie," he said, as he laid it on my desk.

My first thought, I'll admit it, was that maybe I'd done something to make at least one of my brothers happy. Yeah, my attitude

was definitely scraping the bottom of the barrel.

When school let out, the school erupted with jubilant teenagers, happy to see the last of school for a week.

Guthrie had regained some of his customary good-nature, although he was still somewhat quiet, as we drove home.

When we passed the Dari Kurl, it was jammed with kids, honking their car horns, and yelling.

"Wanna stop?" Guthrie offered.

I shook my head. "Not unless you do."

"Naw. I'm gonna do chores, and then pack up some food, and go up camping."

"It'll be cold," I offered, and Guthrie shrugged.

"Doesn't matter," he said.

After a few minutes of silence went by, Guthrie asked, "So you went to see her, huh?"

"I had to try," I said shortly, knowing he meant Karissa.

"I guess."

Then he changed the subject yet again.

"House'll be empty Sunday night," he said, and I looked at him questioningly.

"Hannah's goin' with Adam to some Cattlemen's meeting and they're gonna spend the night in Stockton. And Crane's going

with his new lady somewhere. To meet her parents, I think."

"Wow. You know a lot," I said, and Guthrie shrugged.

"Are they taking Isaac?" I asked. "Or maybe Clare and Brian are going to watch him."

"I think they're taking him."

"The house really will be quiet," I agreed. Then, in an attempt at weak humor, I said, "Especially after they kill me." But I

didn't find it funny. I felt a tremor of fear shoot thru me.

"Adam was sure mad," Guthrie acknowledged.

"Yeah," I agreed glumly.

"Catch him alone, and try talkin' to him about it," Guthrie said. "He's had all day to cool off."

"Or to get even madder," I countered.

"Fifty-fifty," Guthrie said.

7

Once at home, as Guthrie and I went inside, and tossed our backpacks into chairs in the living room, there were

bags and suitcases sitting here and there.

Hannah came down the stairs, carrying a pair of boots and a sweater in her arms.

"Hey, you two," she greeted us, sounding like her usual self. She paused beside us. "There's some apple cake in the

kitchen," she said, mostly to Guthrie, and he nodded.

"Did your day go better than it started?" she asked. Guthrie looked embarrassed, and I felt my own face turn warm.

"Yes'm," Guthrie said. "I'm sorry for gettin' short with you this morning," he told her.

Hannah rubbed his shoulder. "It's alright. I think we've all had better mornings." She turned to me. "How about you?"

"It was an okay day," I said.

"The lawyer called today, and I guess the meeting that was planned for tomorrow morning got cancelled," Hannah told me.

"Karissa cancelled it?" I asked, and Hannah nodded.

"From what I understand."

"She's a flake," I said.

Hannah looked concerned, but she didn't answer that.

"Can I have some of the cake to pack up?" Guthrie asked her. "I'm going camping."

"You can. There's some cookies, too. And you can use some of that leftover ham."

"Thanks, Hannah," Guthrie said, and ambled upstairs, to change his clothes.

Hannah and I stood there, in the center of the living room, neither one of us saying anything. I felt as though she wanted

to say something, but hadn't.

"Where's Adam?" I asked her.

"He's upstairs, getting cleaned up for his meeting tonight." She hesitated. "It's probably an okay time to talk to him, if you wanted

to."

"I don't want to," I said.

"It's better to do it sooner than later," she advised.

"I don't want to do it at all," I said, feeling stubborn.

Hannah was looking at me, all sad-eyed, and I snapped a little. "I was just trying to do something for him, and for Brian. They

could have been more understanding about it. Adam acts like I did it just to start trouble."

Hannah was still quiet, and she was still looking at me with that same look of sadness, and also, I felt, with a bit of

judging in her eyes.

"You agree with Adam," I sighed. "I can tell."

Hannah laid the boots and sweater on top of the suitcase sitting nearby. "It seems like you want to argue, Harlie. And I'm not

going to do that." She sighed. "If you change your mind, and want to talk, just let me know."

I felt bad, then, for being so rude to Hannah, but I was still feeling stubborn, too. She would be on Adam's side, no doubt.

Still, before we ended the conversation, there was something I wanted to know.

"What's Adam thinking?" I asked her. "About me, I mean?"

"He hasn't said too much about it," Hannah said. "It's been busy around here today, and he hasn't really talked to me

about it."

"Oh," I said. It would have been helpful to at least know what Adam was thinking, about punishment for doing what he'd

told me not to, and for lying to him and to Brian.

"I still think you should try talking to him," Hannah said, and then she went back thru towards the kitchen. I took out my biology test,

and laid it on Crane's desk, where I knew he would see it.

I went up to change to my old, torn jeans, making sure I didn't see Adam anywhere in the hallway.

In my room I changed, and then was in the middle of brushing my hair, and rebraiding it, when I heard yelling in the

hallway. I opened the door to find Evan standing there. "Hey," he greeted me. "Can you help me? The pigs are out."

"Oh. Okay," I said, picking up my boots to carry.

At the top of the stairs, Adam called, "What's goin' on?" and Evan and I turned to see him standing at the other end of the

hallway. He was buttoning up a dress shirt.

"Pigs are out," Evan said.

"Where's Brian?" Adam asked. "Or Guthrie?"

"I don't know. I can't find anybody," Evan said. "It's cool. Harlie's gonna help."

"Okay," Adam said, and Evan and I went on down the stairs. I was glad I'd been far enough away so that I couldn't see

Adam's facial expression, or see the look in his eyes.

Evan and I went to chase the pigs, eventually joined by Guthrie, and the three of us chased, and ran, and tried to corner

six big sows.

Once they were back into their pen, I bent over, my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath.

"Everything alright?" we heard Adam yelling, from where he was standing beside Hannah's car. Evan waved at him.

"Got 'em!" Evan called back, and Adam waved in return, getting in the car, and driving down the driveway.

After that, Guthrie got packed up to go camping, and took off. To his credit, he did ask me if I wanted to go with him.

"I might come up later, if you're not home tomorrow," I told him.

Guthrie said okay, and see you later, and took off. I had a niggling feeling as I watched him drive off. It seemed as though things weren't

right between Guthrie and me. I tried to think. What brother was I still in good graces with?

Daniel, maybe. And Ford. But they didn't really count, since they weren't even here, in the trenches, at this particular moment.

"Thanks for the help," Evan said, as he passed by me, and I gave him a half-smile.

Evan would be it. The one and only brother here who wasn't thinking I was a waste of good space.

7

Evan took off before supper to go out with Nancy, and Crane was gone, too. Clare was working a shift at the hospital, Guthrie was gone camping,

and so, with Adam added to the list of the absentee McFaddens, supper was sparse. Consisting of me, Hannah, and Brian. We were eating ham

sandwiches, with leftover potato salad. Hannah and I sat in our usual places, next to each other, but Brian moved to sit across the table from me,

in Crane's place, so that the three of us were closer together.

I was quiet, letting Brian and Hannah talk. I couldn't be absolutely sure, but I felt a tenseness at the table. Maybe it was just my imagination,

working overtime. Although Hannah and I's conversation earlier hadn't been all that promising.

We were finishing up supper, when we could hear Isaac starting to cry upstairs.

"Little man's awake," Hannah said, and got up, going up the back stairs.

Left at the table, alone with Brian, I risked a look across at him.

"Looks like you and I are it for dishwashing duty tonight," he said.

"Looks like it," I agreed.

"You get the table cleared, and start the water, and I'll be back after I make a quick phone call," Brian said then, looking at me.

I nodded, and he added, "It'll give us a chance to talk a bit."

I gave him a sharp look. I couldn't help feeling his words sounded a little ominous. Talk, huh?

"Alright," I said, with a sigh.

I had the table cleared off, and was running water in the sink, pouring a generous amount of dish soap into the water. The bubbles were

rising up to fill the entire sink. I've always done that, ever since I was little. I feel like if you're going to wash dishes, then you should have plenty

of soap. Who wants to wash dishes with just mostly hot water?

Once Brian came back into the kitchen, he pulled a dish towel out of the drawer, and slung it over his shoulder, and then he

started rinsing the dishes and putting them in the dish strainer.

"Did you talk to Adam?" he asked me.

"Not since this morning."

"Why not?" he asked me, taking the towel from his shoulder, and beginning to dry cups and glasses.

"Because he's so mad. And I don't want to talk to him," I said honestly.

"You need to make things right, Harlie."

"Will that keep me from being in trouble? Will I be out of the doghouse with you guys if I try talking?"

"Whoo whee," Brian said. "Miss Sassy Pants."

I looked up at him. "If I say that I know I made a mistake, that I shouldn't have called her, that I was wrong to

lie, will that fix everything?"

"Well, it's a start," Brian said.

I looked back down at the sink of dishes, tears filling my eyes.

"I'm tired of all this," I said softly. "It's just got me all worn down."

When Brian was quiet, I mumbled, "That's why I told you in the first place, last night. I wanted to be honest, and make it

right. And I thought you understood things. And then this morning happened, and it just got more horrible."

"So basically, you feel like I threw you under the bus this morning, is that what you're sayin'?" he asked me.

I shrugged, not answering. I wasn't going to incriminate myself any further. Let Brian take it any way that he wanted to.

"Hmm," he said then.

We finished the dishes in silence. And this wasn't one of those good silences.

I was finishing wiping the counters, and Brian started a pot of coffee.

"Am I grounded for the whole spring break?" I asked, without looking in his direction.

"Aren't you on restriction already? For grades?" he asked.

"My biology grade is way up. So I don't mean that. I mean for Wednesday night."

"I'd say it's a safe bet that you're grounded for that, yeah."

"Can I go riding?" I asked, still not looking his way.

I heard Brian sigh. Then he said, "If you're done, let's you and me go sit on the porch for awhile."

"Do we have to?" I asked. "I'd rather just have my punishment and be done with it."

"Alright. But I thought we could talk awhile, anyway."

"I'm really not up for another lecture, Brian," I said, still feeling my hurt feelings from the morning, when he'd just pushed

me into the discussion with Adam, and then left me to fend for myself. "I just wanted to know if I can ride. That's all."

There was a long, momentary silence. "Let's say no riding for half of the break. After that, you can, as long you let somebody know

where you're going," he said.

"Okay," I said, scrubbing at a stubborn spot on the counter.

"You were in the wrong," he went on. "You're gonna have consequences."

I nodded, without answering, still avoiding his eye.

"Talkin' to you is like trying to hug a cactus," he said, sounding grim. "You're the one who lied to us, and yet I come

out of this feelin' like the bad guy somehow."

"Sorry," I said, really softly, not so certain that I meant it.

"Uh huh," he said, and I knew that he knew that I didn't mean it.

He folded the dishtowel and laid it beside the sink. "Let's agree to stall this conversation for now. We'll pick it up again later,

when Adam and I have a chance to talk."

When I didn't answer, he said, sounding irritable, "Got it?"

"Got it," I mumbled in reply.

7


	63. After love

I went up to my room shortly after my stressful interaction with Brian in the kitchen. I got into my pajamas, and curled up on my bed,

sipping at a glass of milk, and immersed myself in reading my mom's journal. It had been a while since I had read in it, and I opened it, turning

the pages gently, reverently.

I found the spot that I'd stopped reading at. By now I'd read up thru the wedding of my parents, which had been a simple one, in the yard of

my grandparent's home. My mom had become pregnant nearly immediately with Adam, and the journal chronicalled her pregnancy, and the time

that she and my dad worked to begin building up the ranch. There were mentions of my grandparents visiting, but never anything about

Karissa coming to the ranch. At least up until the point where Mom got pregnant with Brian. Which is when Karissa swooped in, showing up

and trying to take over the house.

Mom had been really sick with morning sickness, during the pregnancy with Brian, and, in her own words, the house was beginning to show the effects of her not being able to

keep up as well, combined with chasing after Adam. Adam, by her own description, was an extremely active toddler. So Karissa came, cleaning the

house in a frenzy, and then, after a particularly tense supper meal, she and my dad had gotten into an argument. Karissa accused my dad of

being selfish, and only thinking of himself, burdening my mom with too much responsibility.

My dad had gotten to his feet, telling Karissa that she needed to go, and not come back until she could respect his household. After that,

the journal said that my dad hired a neighbor to come in and help my mom out for awhile.

In my mom's own words, I read, "Adam called Mrs. Bremer, and asked her to come and help out a couple days a week. So far she's come

twice, and she did more in two hours than I can accomplish in an entire day! What a blessing that woman is! When Adam came in for supper, I

actually had the energy to enjoy our evening together, and we both pushed little Adam on the swing. When we were in bed, Adam held

me close and told me that he'd been a thoughtless clod, and asked if I could forgive him. I told him there was a good chance of it."

I could almost hear the smile in my mom's words.

So, maybe, I thought, Karissa had done something good for my mom, once upon a time. She may have been rude about it, but

the end result helped my mom. I sighed, laying back on the bed, thinking.

I fell asleep with the light on, and woke up sometime in the night, walking over to switch it off, and then going back to bed.

7

I was awakened in the morning, by huge amounts of noise in the hallway, and from downstairs. I got up slowly, pulling on my jeans and

shirt, and went downstairs. When I went to the front window, and looked out, I saw a big truck, a semi cattle truck, backing up to the corral. Stephen

got out, and then a man who I assumed was his father. Then my brothers began appearing from inside the barn, and by the corral, opening gates, and

while I stood there, Stephen's father got back into the truck, while Brian motioned him back with his hand, directing him when to stop.

My stomach began to hurt. I knew why that truck was here. They were selling the cows so they could pay the lawyer bill.

I pressed my cheek against the wood sill around the window, pushing the curtain out of the way. Watching.

Evan came past, pulling on his boots as he walked, hopping, and pulling.

"Hey," he said, as he passed me, but I didn't answer.

I was still standing there when Clare came up to stand beside me. She looked out, too, but she was quiet, brushing my hair

back. I sighed, grateful that she was there. And that she didn't try to talk.

"I hate this," I muttered.

"I know," she said softly.

We watched as more cows were herded out.

"That's nine," I said, feeling as though I wanted to cry.

In response Clare rubbed her hand over my back, in comforting circles.

The last cow to go up the ramp into the trailer was one of the prettiest ones we have. She was due to calve in another month or so. We've

had her for years. Since I was thirteen or so.

"Oh, no," I said. "Not Olive Oil."

Suddenly, I couldn't stand to watch anymore. I covered my face with my hands.

"Oh, Harlie," Clare said, and hugged me tight.

"I need to go ride," I said, and then brushed the hair out of my eyes. "But I can't, Brian says. I'm going for a walk."

"Okay," she said. "But let's go eat first."

I looked at her, and she said softly, "No blood sugar crashes. That's not going to help. Come on." She tugged at my hand

and we went to the kitchen together. Clare pushed me into my chair, and put a plate of scrambled eggs in front of me. She buttered

some toast, and sat down next to me, in Guthrie's chair, where we both ate our toast and eggs, and drank coffee.

We were still sitting there, next to each other, when my brothers starting coming in, thru the back door. They were all talking, although not about

the cattle, and they were pouring coffee until the pot was empty.

I kept quiet, and Clare sat next to me, not moving back to her own chair. When Evan gave me a look across the table,

and said, "You look weird. What's wrong?" to me, Clare squeezed my hand under the table.

"Nothing," I said.

Evan gave me a dubious look, but went back to eating his breakfast without saying anymore. I looked up at one point, over the top

of my glass of orange juice, to see that Crane was watching me. He gave me a meaningful look, full of sympathy and kindness.

"Awesome job on that biology test," he said.

"Thanks," I said, and when he smiled at me, I tried to smile back.

After breakfast, I was helping clear the dishes from the table. I knew I was on dishwashing duty again, and I started running

water in the sink. It started to thin out in the kitchen, with everybody going different directions and talking about what needed to

be done.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Adam at the coffeepot. I could hear the sounds of him pouring another cup of coffee, and then

the sound of the coffeepot being set back down.

He leaned against the counter just to my right side. "Who's on dish duty with you?" he asked me.

"Guthrie," I told him. Then, just in case he might offer to help me himself, which I did not want, I said, "It's okay. I don't mind

doing them alone."

"Okay," he said.

After another small stretch of silence, Adam said, "You did the wrong thing, Harlie. Going against what I told you, with Karissa."

His voice was quiet, not raised at all, but it still made my stomach hurt.

I thought of telling him that I knew that, that I wished that I hadn't done it, all of that.

Instead, I said, "Yes, sir," quietly, still washing dishes.

"I have to say, it surprised me. You knew where I stood on it, and you just went your own way anyway," he went on, still quietly.

The pit in my stomach grew fluttery with nerves.

"As if I hadn't said anything at all," Adam continued. He waited, but when I didn't say anything, he

said, "It just surprised me. That you would do that."

I'd thought his anger was the worst. His yelling. But I'd been wrong. The sound of disappointment in his voice

nearly made me nauseous.

I was trying really hard to think of what to say. What, if anything, I could say to show him that I understood. And that I didn't

want him to be disappointed in me.

Before I could think of the right words, he said, his voice a little short, "You don't have anything to say?"

I bit at my lip, and then decided it couldn't get any worse. I might as well try to explain.

"Ever since this happened, everything's been such a mess. Everybody's suffering. I wanted her to know what

she was doing to us," I said.

"Harlie, haven't you figured out by now that she doesn't give a tinker's damn about anybody but herself?"

There was a harshness to his tone now.

I rinsed the glasses and bowls, and put them in the dish strainer.

"I thought-" I began, and then let my voice trail off.

"You thought you could convince her to change her mind," he finished for me. "Right?"

"Right," I said, looking at the soap suds in the sink.

"Well, who knows? Maybe you did manage to do that. I guess we'll hear about it, if that's so. And I'll be mighty glad about it, if that's

how it works out."

I risked a look up at him. "Me, too," I said.

We kept our eyes on one another for what seemed like forever to me.

"That doesn't change the facts of you going against something that I felt real strongly about, though. That's real upsetting to

me," he said.

"I'm sorry, Adam. I really am," I said, feeling miserable.

"Well," he said, and then he stopped talking. I waited, determined to keep my eyes on his face, even though I

wanted nothing more than to look away.

"What do you think the most important thing is, that one person can give to another?" he asked.

I bit at my lip. I could tell he wanted me to answer.

"Love?" I asked.

"Right. Love," he agreed. "After love, what do you think is the next thing that's most important?"

"I don't know," I said, feeling worse by the moment. I couldn't figure out what he was getting at.

"It's trust, Harlie," he said.

I felt as though I'd been punched in the stomach. I looked at him, not saying a word.

"You can love somebody, you can love them a lot, and not have an ounce of trust in them. So when you have love and trust

both for the same person, well, that's pretty darn special," he said.

I felt tears building behind my eyes. "And I ruined that, with you and me, right?" I said, my voice sounding raspy.

"I'd say it's damaged, for darn sure."

He sighed, and put his empty coffee cup into the soapy water.

"I want you to put your truck keys on my dresser upstairs," he said then. "You're not goin' to need them, because you're not

goin' to be driving. If I can't trust you to keep your word to me, then I can't trust you to have the freedom to drive."

I wasn't that surprised, and it wasn't that I thought it was so awfully unfair, or anything, but I still felt upset. I waited for him to

say how long before I could drive again, but he didn't.

He sighed a little, and then said what he always says after he gives Guthrie or I a talking to, or a grounding or whatever.

"You have any questions?"

"How long?" I said, gathering my courage.

"I don't know, Harlie. I guess that will depend on how things go."

I wasn't sure just what that meant, and I didn't want to ask, so instead, I said, "What can I do? To make you-feel a little better

about me?"

A flash of irritation crossed his face. "I don't think that's the choice of words you want to use. I happen to love you."

"I mean-I want to have your trust again."

"I figured that's what you meant." He sighed again. "And I don't know the answer to that. Time, I guess. And a whole lot

of effort on your part."

I turned back to the sink of dishes again, sniffling. "K," I mumbled.

"I want you to know that I do understand why you did it, going to try to talk to Karissa. You were lookin' out for

Brian and I. But the end doesn't justify the means. Do you know what I mean?"

I nodded.

"Alright." He hesitated a couple more moments, and I had the feeling that he had something else he wanted to say. Instead, though,

he said, "I know Hannah has a lot of stuff to get done today. I'm sure she'd appreciate some help."

"Okay," I said, wishing he would just go, so I could cry without him seeing.

"Okay," he said, and went out the back door, quietly, without letting it slam.

7


	64. Decision made

The rest of the day, that entire day, I kept quiet, only talking enough to ask Hannah what she wanted me to

do around the house. Several times, while we worked side by side, I felt her watching me, but I didn't comment on it,

or try to talk.

At one point, she asked, "I'll listen, if you want to talk to me."

"I know you will," I said, and went on folding Isaac's tiny shirts into a neat pile on the table. I felt awkward, as though

she was waiting for me to say something more. "Thank you," I added. "But I don't need to talk."

"I think you do need to," she said, stressing the word 'need'. "It's that you don't want to."

True enough. She'd hit the nail squarely on the head, as they say.

I turned to look at her. "Thanks, anyway," I said.

Hannah gave a little sigh, and went back downstairs to get another load of laundry from the dryer.

I did all the chores around the house that she asked me to do, and then did my own laundry. I went outside after lunch,

and gathered up the brushes and curry combs, and went to work on the horse's coats. I had Petra, Old Charlie, and Guthrie's horse

tied to the hitching post, and I brushed them all until my arm was aching.

I was suddenly hit with such a lonesomeness for Guthrie that I wanted to cry. We'd be lucky if Guthrie showed back

up at all, I thought glumly. He'd get up there, in the mountains, and with a tent, and a gun to shoot rabbits with, he could survive just fine. I wished I was with him.

There was no way that I would be allowed to go up there, though. Not by myself. I thought for a minute. If I could

get someone to agree to go with me, then maybe I'd be allowed to go.

I was still thinking when Evan happened by. "They're lookin' good," he commented, touching Petra's shiny coat, from where I'd been brushing it.

"Thanks." I turned to look at him. "Ev, will you take me up to the mountains? To go camping? Or take me up to Guthrie, and then you can come back, I mean?"

"When?" he asked.

"Now. Today."

"I can't today. I've got some stuff I have to get done."

I felt disappointment wash over me. "Tomorrow, then?" I asked hopefully.

"Tomorrow I have to stay around here. I'll have all the chores to do. Everybody's gonna be gone," he said, effectively

shooting down my hopes.

I remembered what Guthrie had told me, about Adam and Hannah going to Stockton overnight, and about Crane going to meet Miss Noel's parents or something.

"What about Brian?" I asked. "Can't he take care of stuff, just long enough for you to ride up there with me?"

"I think Brian and Clare are goin' to the Cattlemen's meeting, too."

"You're kidding," I said, in disgust. "Good grief!"

Evan looked surprised at my vehement response. "I don't think Brian and Clare are gonna stay the night there, though. They might come back late Sunday night."

"Bat shit," I muttered.

"What's your problem?" Evan asked me. "They're all entitled to have a night away, once in awhile."

"I didn't say they weren't, did I?" I snapped back.

Evan was frowning, and I didn't feel like fighting with him, so I went back to brushing Petra's mane. "Never mind. It's okay," I said.

Evan went on his way, and I stayed there, even after I turned the horses back out to pasture. I went to sit on the side of the barn, on the hay bales that Guthrie and I always sit on, when we want to talk. I did some thinking, and I cried a little. When had things gotten so messed up? What a terrible few months it had been. First being diagnosed with diabetes,

and then Doc G dying. And then this whole debacle with Karissa showing up, and creating havoc. I couldn't remember the last time that I had felt entirely relaxed and happy. I was tired of everything.

By the time I went inside, when somebody called my name to come in for supper, I had in mind exactly what I was going

to do.

7

First, I waited thru Sunday morning. Nobody was going to church this Sunday. When the afternoon rolled around, Crane had already

left, and so then, did Brian and Clare. I have to say this for Clare. She was concerned for me. She made a special point to

talk to me, and ask if I was holding up alright, and all of that.

I didn't lie. I told her that I was feeling low, but I'd be alright.

Adam and Hannah left about two that afternoon, taking Hannah's little Gremlin, with Isaac tucked into the back seat, babbling

away happily. Hannah gave me a hug, without saying anything, and Adam said simply, "Help Evan out with stuff, alright?"

I nodded, and once they were gone, down the driveway, I went inside. I began making phone calls. First to Lori, and then to Rick McRae. And then to the bus

station in Modesto.

I went upstairs, and retrieved a duffle bag of Evan's out of the hall closet. It's one he uses for rodeos sometimes.

I packed a couple of shirts, and another pair of jeans. Two pairs of socks and changes of underwear. And pajamas. I packed my diabetes

supplies in a separate little lunch bag, and shoved it into the duffel bag. I squeezed in a couple of apples, and a few granola bars.

It was only shortly after I'd done that, that I heard a knocking on the front door. I went down and looked out. Rick was standing there, at

the door. He hadn't wasted any time getting over here.

"Hi," I said, opening the door.

"Hi, Harlie." He grinned at me. "I didn't want to give you a chance to change your mind."

"Okay. Well, it's over there by the barn." I dug into my jeans pocket. "Here's the key."

Rick took the key. "Great. I'm not gonna be able to take it today. I couldn't find anybody to come over with me, to drive

my truck back." He looked at me hopefully. "Unless maybe you'd want to drive it to my house, and I'll follow you in my truck? And then run you back home?"

"I would, but I have something I have to do," I told him.

"Oh, okay. Well, here," he said, and pulled some money out of his shirt pocket, handing it to me. "A hundred, you say?"

I nodded. "It's not insured, or anything," I told him. "And the tires are real worn. But Daniel put a new fuel pump in it, and a new

alternator, I think it was."

"Sure, sure. That's fine." He grinned at me again. "I'll be over to pick it up in a couple of days, then. That be alright?"

"It's fine," I told him.

We said goodbye, and I watched him walk back to his truck, stopping long enough to run his hand over the hood of the El Camino.

7

I hadn't seen Evan since after lunch when everybody had left, and I wasn't sure just where he'd gotten to. When Lori called me, to

say she was on her way, I went to search for Evan.

He wasn't hard to find. He was feeding the pigs, and when he saw me, standing there by the side of the pen, he took off his

ball cap, and swiped his arm across his forehead. "It's warm for this early on," he said.

"Yeah," I agreed. I watched as he reached down to pat one of the pigs across the back.

"Are you going out with Nancy tonight?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

"I dunno. She say maybe she could come over here tonight, and we could all watch a movie together, or something."

I knew exactly what the point of that was, and I decided to squelch it.

"You don't have to stay home," I told him.

"I don't wanna leave you here all by yourself," he said. "Who knows if Guthrie's gonna show back up tonight, or not."

"Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about," I said, and Evan looked at me questioningly.

"What?" he asked.

"I was invited to spend the night over at Lori's. She's having a bunch of the girls over."

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Uh huh. So if I do that, then you can take Nancy out somewhere. You don't have to worry about me."

"Oh." Evan looked considering. "Are you sure that's okay with Adam? And Crane, and everybody? You've been in a lot of

trouble lately."

"Adam said no driving," I said, trying to sound blasé. "And I got my grades up. So Crane's cool about everything."

"Oh," he said again.

"I've been feeling bad lately," I told him, deciding to go for the sympathy vote. "I just want to have some fun with my

friends, and forget about stupid Karissa."

"Yeah," he said, looking sympathetic. I felt a tug of conscience. He was being so nice.

"So okay?" I asked quickly. I didn't want to drag this out.

"Yeah, okay," he said. "Do you need me to take you over to Lori's?"

"No," I said quickly, and when he looked a little surprised, I added, "She's coming over to pick me up."

"Alright. Well, have fun," he said.

"We will," I said, and walked backwards a few steps. "She said something about me staying tomorrow night, too. You know,

enjoy spring break, and everything."

"Okay. Just let somebody know if you're gonna do that." He smiled at me, and I had to look away.

I was waiting on the porch, when Lori came a few minutes later. I put the duffle bag in the back seat, and was getting ready to

get into the car, when I heard Evan holler. I looked over to where he was coming out of the barn.

He waved, and I waved back, getting in and shutting the car door.

"Evan's so nice," Lori said, and I thought there was nothing worse she could have said at that particular moment. I hardened

my heart, and pushed back my pesky conscience.

"Yeah. He is," I said, and Lori began to drive to Modesto.

7

Once there, we found the Greyhound bus station. It took some doing to find it, since neither one of us had ever had

reason to know its whereabouts before.

I went to the ticket window, inquiring about times of departure, and prices of a bus ticket to Nashville.

I bought my ticket, and went back to sit beside Lori, who was waiting on a bench.

"There's a bus leaving in about an hour and a half," I said.

"That's a long time," Lori said.

"It's okay if you need to leave," I told her.

"I'd like to wait with you, but my mom's going to get suspicious if I'm not back pretty soon."

"It's okay." I squeezed her hand. "Go on. Thanks for bringing me. And for letting me say I was going to be at your house."

"It's no problem." She looked worried. "Unless, you know, Hannah calls my mom up tomorrow or something."

"I don't think she will. It will be real late tomorrow night when she gets home. It'll be Tuesday morning before she thinks about

doing that, and by that time, I'll have called home to let them know."

"Okay." Lori gave me a concerned look. "Are you sure about this, Harlie? I mean, this could be a real bad thing."

"It'll be fine," I said.

"I don't think I'd have the nerve to do it," she said. "Ride all that way alone."

I'd been trying not to focus on that part of this whole thing.

"It's an adventure," I told her, trying to sound brave.

She gave me a dubious look, of a friend since kindergarten days together.

"Well, it's scary," I admitted, "but I have to go. I have to see Daniel."

She nodded, and stood up, and I got up too. I gave her ten dollars to put gas in the car, so her

mom wouldn't know she'd driven all the way to Modesto. We hugged each other, and then she left.

I tried to immerse myself in my library book that I'd brought along, but finally gave up, and just people-watched.

7

I was already tired of sitting by the time the bus called to board.

I found a seat, glad they were cushiony. They'd be way more comfortable than those hard benches at the bus station.

Once on the way, I read awhile, then looked out the window. An older lady, sitting opposite of me across the aisle,

tried to make small talk. Asking where I was headed and all of that.

When I told her I was going to Nashville, she nodded. "Oh, yes, I've made that trip myself. It's a long one."

"How long is it?" I asked curiously. I hadn't thought to ask the man behind the ticket counter.

"Near to about 22 hours," she said.

I felt crushing disappointment. "Twenty-two hours?" I asked in disbelief. "That's forever."

"It's certainly a long enough trip," she agreed, and then smiled at me, and went back to her knitting. I felt pretty

dumb right about then. I'd never even really thought about how long of a trip it was between our home and Nashville.

It was close to seven, when the bus made its first stop, at a restaurant, where we were encouraged to get off and eat.

The restaurant was crowded, and I found myself sitting next to the chatty woman from the bus, who introduced herself to me.

"I'm Beatrice Rose," she said.

"My name's Harlie," I told her, omitting my last name.

When the waitress came, I realized how hungry I was. I ordered a full dinner, meatloaf and mixed vegetables, and some kind

roll with sprinkles of something green on the top.

I ate everything, and thought about ordering dessert, but restrained myself. Besides not needing to spend any more money, I

didn't want to do anything to cause the diabetes monster to rear his ugly head. I'd carried in my diabetes supplies, and went to the

restaurant bathroom to do my shot.

Once back on the bus, darkness had arrived, and after that it wasn't so easy to tell where we were at, so I was thinking about trying

to go to sleep, when Mrs. Rose said, "Do you have a blanket, dear?"

"No, ma'm," I said, wishing that I'd thought to pack one.

"These buses get so chilly at nighttime." She turned to rummage thru a bag beside her. "Here," she said, handing me an

afghan.

"I can't take your blanket," I said.

"I have another," she said. "I always come prepared."

"Thank you," I said gratefully.

"You're welcome, dear. Sweet dreams."

I waited for sleep, but it didn't come for a long time. When I eventually did fall asleep, I woke up in the night sometime. I wasn't

sure what time it was, but almost all the passengers looked as though they were sleeping. I got out a granola bar to nibble on.

After that, I sat, looking out the window at the darkness. And I began to worry.

I tried to calculate what time I'd be arriving in Nashville. Twenty-two hours, the lady had said, and that didn't include stops

for refueling, or meal breaks. Roughly, possibly, I might arrive in Nashville by seven or eight o'clock tomorrow night. Or maybe it

was seven or eight o'clock tonight. Depending on what time it was right now. It might already be Monday. I'd call Daniel, the very

first thing, I thought. I bit at my lip in nerves. And then I began to worry about what Daniel was going to say.

7


	65. Neverending ride

"Daniel would understand. I worked hard to convince myself of that. He would. He would listen, and he would help me

to figure everything out. He'd help me to work stuff out in my mind.

I fell back to sleep at some point, and when I woke up, it was just past sunrise. I stretched, folding the blanket that Mrs. Rose

had let me borrow. She was still sleeping, her knitting in her lap.

I tried to figure out where we were, and how far we'd come. There was a middle-aged man seated in the seat just in front of Mrs. Rose. He half-turned back

and smiled at me.

"Good morning," he said. "Looks as though we're the only two awake so far."

I nodded. "Looks like it," I said.

"Where are you headed to?" he asked.

I hesitated. He looked normal enough, but I didn't know him, and I was on my own here.

"Just traveling," I said vaguely.

He smiled, as though he wasn't bothered at all by my response.

"Nothing better than traveling," he said.

"What time is it?" I asked him. "Do you know?"

The man looked at the watch on his wrist. "Nearly seven."

Nearly halfway to Nashville. I sighed. Twelve more hours seemed so long.

"Where are we?" I asked him then.

"We're in Arizona," he said. "We should be stopping for breakfast soon."

I nodded, and went back to looking out of the window. He kept turned, watching me for a few minutes, and smiling at me

whenever I looked his way.

I was glad to see the bus pulling up into another restaurant parking lot. The driver said we'd be leaving again in 40 minutes. I

got off the bus, stretching my legs. The man who'd been talking to me on the bus fell into step beside me.

"I'll be glad to buy your breakfast," he said.

I gave him a look. Even I, at my dumbest, knew better than that. I was saved from answering by Mrs. Rose, who

appeared beside my elbow. "We're eating together," she told the man, and whisked me inside, and to a table.

"I hope I didn't overstep," she told me. "You didn't want to have breakfast with that gentleman, did you?"

"No, ma'm," I admitted. "Thank you."

"We girls have to stick together," she said, with a smile.

I ordered a big breakfast. What was it about riding on a bus that made me so hungry? I ate my eggs, and toast, and sausage, and

drank orange juice, and coffee.

"You have a healthy appetite," Mrs. Rose commented. "It's nice to see a girl eat well. Most of these young girls don't eat enough to keep

from blowing away."

"I don't know why I'm so hungry. I don't usually eat this much at home," I admitted.

"Well, you can stand to carry some more weight," she said, sounding grandma-ish like Marie. For a moment, my chest squeezed. I wondered

what Marie would say to me if she was sitting across from me right now.

"Where is home?" she asked me then.

Her eyes were kind, and I answered honestly. "Murphys." Then, since Murphys is such a small town, and she might not have heard

of it, I added, "California."

"Yes. Murphys," she nodded. "I've never been there. But I hear that it's beautiful."

"It is."

"Who's in Nashville that you're traveling to see?" she asked me.

"My brother."

"That's nice, that you're going to see him. I wasn't fortunate enough to have a brother."

"I have seven," I told her, and her eyes widened a bit like most people's do when they hear the size of our family.

"My goodness," she said. She asked a few questions, and soon I was talking. Talking about all my brothers, and Hannah and Clare, and

baby Isaac. When I talked about Isaac, and how he was starting to cut teeth, and how he would look at you and smile, and flap his

little hands, I felt the tightening in my chest again.

"Sweet baby," she said.

"Yes. He is," I said.

"None of your brothers could make the trip to Nashville with you?" she asked then. Somehow, her questions didn't seem intrusive or

over the top, so I found myself answering honestly again.

"They don't know, that I'm going, I mean," I said.

"Oh," she said, looking startled. "But your brother in Nashville? What's his name?"

"Daniel."

"Daniel knows that you're coming?" she asked.

I hesitated. "It's sort of a surprise," I said.

"Ah," she said, with a nod, looking as though she wanted to say something more.

After that, though, she didn't ask any more questions, or say anything more about it. We talked about other things mostly, and

finished our breakfast.

When it was time to board the bus again, I sank into my seat, feeling as though I'd been riding on a bus forever.

7

Nearly five hours later, we stopped for lunch. Again off of the bus. Into a fast food place. Then back onto the bus. I actually sighed

as we reboarded, weary thru and thru.

Mrs. Rose told me I could sit with her, and I did, and I watched her fingers fly over her knitting.

"Would you like to try?" she asked me.

"I'm not very crafty," I told her.

"No need to be," she said, brushing aside my concerns. "It will make the time go faster."

So she showed what to do, and I tried it. I wasn't very good at it, but she was right about the time passing faster.

"I'll be getting off soon," she told me.

"Oh," I said.

"My daughter's waiting for me in Enid."

I nodded. "It was nice to meet you. I want to thank you for being so kind to me."

For a long moment, the older woman looked at me. "You're not hard to be kind to. I hope you have a wonderful visit with your

brother."

"Me, too," I said, pushing back worrisome thoughts of Daniel flipping out at my sudden and unexpected arrival.

"You could call him at the next rest stop," she said. "So it won't be such a surprise."

"I probably should," I agreed.

At Enid, Oklahoma, Mrs. Rose gathered up her knitting, and her bag, and gave me a pat.

"Here," I told her, remembering the afghan that she'd let me borrow the night before.

"Keep it," she told me. "I must have a hundred of them that I've made over the years."

"Thank you," I said.

"Take care, dear," she said, and with a smile, she was gone. And I was truly sorry to see her go.

7

After Enid, the bus continued what seemed to be an endless drive. When we stopped for an early supper at a steakhouse, I didn't really have

anybody to sit with. I hadn't talked to any of the other bus riders, besides Mrs. Rose and the overly friendly man.

I ordered a salad, and some kind of fruit plate. Everything on the menu was so expensive. I only had about twenty dollars left. It was shocking

how fast I'd gone thru my money from Rick. After buying the ticket, and the gas for Lori, and then all of the meals, well, it seemed it had

gone fast.

When I finished my meal, I walked outside the restaurant. There was a telephone booth to the side. I looked at it, considering. Maybe

I should try calling Daniel now, as Mrs. Rose had suggested. I actually started walking that direction, but then at the door of the phone booth,

I lost my nerve. It'd be better, I told myself, to wait until I was actually in Nashville. Safe and sound. Then Daniel wouldn't have as much reason

to be upset. If I called him now, he'd just be worried until I got there.

When we were loading back up onto the bus, I asked the driver if we were due to arrive at the scheduled time in Nashville.

He gave me a toothy grin. "Right on schedule," he said proudly.

I went back to find my seat, where I'd left my bag, and afghan. I was settling in, when the man who'd tried to chat me up before, came to

stand at the end of the seat in the aisle.

"How are you doing?" he asked me.

"Fine," I said, feeling uncomfortable at his scrutiny.

"The time might go faster if we talk," he said then.

I was trying to think of the words to discourage him, when he sat down next to me, without even a do you mind.

I gathered my afghan and bag up to my chest.

"I always say that one of the best parts of traveling is getting to know your fellow passengers," he said.

I looked at him, but didn't say anything.

For the next while, I don't know how long exactly, he sat by me, and talked. And talked. And talked some more.

About places he'd been, and things that he'd seen, and jobs that he'd had. I was so desperate for him to shut up, that I sighed

out loud.'

"Something wrong?" he asked me.

"I'm getting a headache," I told him, hoping he would take the hint to stop talking and go back to his own seat.

"Ah, yes," he said, and reached up to turn off the little light above my head. "Maybe some quiet and dark will help."

At first I was relieved, but then he just sat there, not moving. He laid his arm across the back of the high bus seat.

"You're young to be traveling alone," he said, in a quieter voice.

I thought it wouldn't do for him to think I was a kid, so I spoke without thinking.

"I'm older than I look," I said.

I knew I'd made a mistake when he smiled again. It wasn't a nice smile. It made my skin crawl.

"I think you look fine," he said, in a slow way, and he let the tips of his fingers rub against my shoulder. "I can tell you're all grown up."

I leaned forward, trying to shake his hand off, but it stayed put. I began to feel panic rising in my throat.

"Who are you meeting up with?" he asked.

"I'm meeting my dad," I lied. "He's a Marine, and he's waiting for me."

"Yeah?" he asked, sounding unsure. "Where at?"

"At the next stop," I continued with my lie. I wasn't even sure where the next stop was at.

"I think I want to stretch out and go to sleep," I said, trying to sound firm.

I don't know if it was my tone, or the fact that he was tired of playing games, or the belief that I had a tough Marine father,

who would be waiting for me, but he moved back across the aisle, and I sighed in relief. I did stretch my feet out, and cover up with Mrs. Rose's afghan, all the way up to my chin, and kept my eyes on the man. I didn't think I would fall asleep at all, but I must have, because I was awakened by the driver, who was shaking my shoulder.

"Miss, this is your stop."

I sat up, trying to get my bearings. "We're in Nashville?" I asked.

"We surely are."

He moved on back down the aisle. I looked out the window, but it was dark, and all I could see was other buses, and a big Greyhound sign under

the lights.

I gathered up my bag, and blanket, and got up, working my way up the aisle. The man was still sleeping, and I hoped that he would stay that

way. I didn't want to have to deal with him anymore.

The first thing I noticed when I stepped off the bus was how cold it was. The temperature difference between here and home was unbelievable.

It was raining, too. A light rain, and when I wasn't watching, I stepped into a puddle to the right of the bus. It soaked

my shoes and right thru to my socks. I went into the bus station, which was a little warmer.

I sat down on a bench, setting my bag and blanket to the side. The big clock on the wall said it was nearly 7:25. There was a pay phone

on the wall. I fumbled in my pockets for change. Then I gathered my nerve, and stood up. It was time to call Daniel.

7


	66. As for anything else

First I tried the number to the house that Daniel and Red were sharing. I let the phone ring at least ten times

before I hung up the receiver, and retrieved my quarters. I straightened the paper out and deposited the coins again, dialing

the phone number to the Palamino Club, where Daniel has been working, and playing with his band.

When the phone was picked up, I could hear lots of noise in the background. "Palamino Club," a female voice answered, with a

heavy Southern accent.

"I'm trying to locate my brother-" I began.

"What? Speak up, sweetheart, I can't hear you."

"I'm trying to catch up with my brother," I said, louder.

"Who's your brother?" she asked me..

"Daniel McFadden. His band plays there-"

"Yeah, sure. I know Daniel. Is this Harlie?" she asked.

When I said yes, the woman said, "Lordy, but he talks up a storm about you."

"Is he there now?" I asked hopefully.

"Um, I'm not sure. Let me ask around. Hang on."

I heard the phone be laid down with a bang, and I hopped from foot to foot, trying to warm up my toes. There were a couple

of older men standing behind me, and I knew they were waiting to use the phone. One gave me a openly irritated look. I turned

my back so I didn't have to look at him.

After what seemed like several minutes, the friendly female voice came back on the line.

"Hey, doll, I guess Daniel stepped out for a few minutes."

"Oh," I said, dejected, unable to hide my disappointment, and worry.

"The guys said he went to mail something. He should be right back."

"Can I call back in a few minutes?" I asked.

"Sure you can. Try in about thirty minutes to be sure. I'll sit on him to make sure he's here when you

call back."

"Thank you."

"Anything you want me to tell him?" she asked.

"No. That's okay. Thanks."

"Okay, sweetheart," she said, and hung up.

I hung up the phone, and stepped around the men, going back to sit on the bench. I rooted thru Evan's duffle bag, searching for

another pair of socks. When I found them, I took off my shoes and wet socks. It felt good to have on dry ones. Unfortunately, when

I put my sneakers back on, they were so wet that they got these socks wet, too.

I sighed, shivering, and looking around the bus depot. I was hungry, and cold. And worried. I was plenty worried. I'd acted

without thinking. I thought of the old adage, 'Act in haste, repent in leisure'.

I was having too much thinking time sitting here in this bus station. I watched the big clock on the opposite wall. Only fifteen minutes

had passed since I'd talked to the girl at the club. I sifted thru the bottom of my bag for some change, and went to the vending machine,

pressing the button for a package of crackers. Nothing dropped out. I pushed the button again, harder. Still nothing. I felt

like shaking the machine in frustration. A guy that I pegged at about thirty came over to the machine. His hair was dirty, and

tied back in a ponytail, and he reeked of marijuana.

"The machine don't work good," he said.

"Oh."

"It'll eat your money almost every time."

"Oh," I said, again.

"You hungry? I can take you across the street to that diner," he said, with a gesture.

"No, thanks, that's alright," I said, eyeing him out of the corner of my eye. The Bellemy Brothers song, 'Old Hippie',

came to mind as I looked at him. He was probably a nice guy, but I knew better than to take that chance.

"I'm harmless, I promise," he said, with a grin.

"I'm waiting for someone," I told him, edging my way around him.

"Alright. Well, I'll be right here, if you change your mind."

I went back to the phone, even though it had only been twenty minutes. I deposited my change, and dialed the number again.

When the now familiar Southern voice answered, I asked her if Daniel was back yet.

"Yeah, he is. I told him his sister was calling him. Hold on and I'll get him."

I heard her yell 'Hey, Daniel!' and I could hear noise of people talking, and music playing.

When Daniel's voice came across the telephone line, I had to catch my breath in relief. It was so good to hear his voice!

"Hey, squirt! How are you?" he asked, sounding happy.

Since I didn't want to start my conversation by telling him how I was, I settled for, "Hi, Daniel."

"How is everything?"

"Not so good," I said, twisting the phone cord in my fingers.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I-I just wanted to talk to you."

"Okay, I've got a few minutes. Or, I can call you back later tonight, if you want."

"No," I said, anxiously, feeling as though I might be sick. "I mean, I was thinking that I could talk to you when I see you," I said slowly.

"Well, but I don't know for sure when I'm comin' home, squirt," he said, sounding regretful. "We'll have to settle for

talkin' on the phone."

"I'm here, Daniel," I said quietly.

"What? Talk louder. I can hardly hear ya."

I raised my voice just a notch. "I said that I'm here."

There was a moment of silence. "What do you mean, you're here?" he asked, sounding wary.

"Here. In Nashville. At the bus depot."

"Who's with you?" he demanded.

I hesitated, and Daniel's voice got louder and stronger. "Who is with you?"

I sighed. There was no sense to putting it off. Besides, I was cold, and hungry, and a little scared. It was going to be getting dark really soon.

I didn't want to be in a dirty bus depot in a strange city alone after dark.

"Nobody," I said, really low.

There was another moment of silence then. I could almost hear the wheels of Daniel's mind turning.

"Is the family going to be worried out of their minds about where you are?" he demanded, sounding angry, and as though his teeth were gritted.

"No. They think I'm spending the night somewhere," I admitted. "Daniel, I just needed to see you, and talk to you-"

"Save it," he ordered brusquely. "Which bus depot? What's the address?"

"Umm, it's the Greyhound bus station. I don't know the address. Should I go ask the clerk?"

"Yeah. Go ask," he said, grimly, sounding as if he wanted to throttle me.

I laid the phone down and went to the clerk's cage. "Excuse me," I said, and he looked up from his

paperwork.

"Yes, little miss?"

"What is the address here?"

When he told me, I thanked him, and went back to the phone quickly.

"Daniel?"

"What's the address?" he demanded, without preamble.

"709 5th Avenue South," I said quickly, before I forgot.

"Alright. It'll take me about thirty minutes or so to get there, maybe a little longer. You stay put, hear me?"

"Yes. I will," I told him. "I have a good reason for coming. Will you promise to listen?" I asked him, pleadingly.

Daniel didn't bother to answer that. Instead he said, sounding ferocious, "I mean it. You don't set one foot out of that building. Understand?"

"Yes, Daniel," I said, barely above a whisper.

The dial tone buzzed in my ear. He'd hung up. I replaced the receiver, and went to sit down again. I'd gotten an apple out

of the bag, and was biting into it when the hippie looking man came over near to me.

"Still waitin' for somebody?" he asked.

I thought how glassy his eyes looked. He looked like he was flying high to me.

"Yes," I said shortly.

"A good supper over to the diner would be better than that apple," he told me.

"No, thank you."

"I'm just tryin' to be friendly," he told me.

I felt so uncomfortable, and scared that I stood up, hoisting the bag over my shoulder, and went to stand next to the

clerk's cage.

"Help you?" the elderly man asked.

"No, sir. I just thought I'd stand here if it's alright. Until my brother gets here."

The man looked at me over the top of his glasses, and then glanced at the long-haired man walking around the station.

"He's always hanging around here," the man offered. "Don't seem to have a home."

"Oh. Well, do you mind if I stand here?" I asked.

"Nope. Don't bother me none."

The man went back to his paperwork, and I thought briefly that he wouldn't be much use if the hippie guy was to

try anything. He looked too old and too frail to be of much help. Still, it made me feel better standing there. He reminded me a little

of Bill Imhof from our church at home.

I kept an eye on the clock, finishing my apple, and tossing the core into the trash can. I would have liked a drink of water, but

the water fountain was near where hippie man was standing, so I decided to wait.

I could see out the window, by the outside lights when a truck drove up, and Daniel got out. I didn't recognize the truck. It

wasn't Red's. I picked up Evan's duffle bag and slung it over my shoulder.

"Leavin' now?" the old man asked me.

"Yes. That's my brother."

"Well, you take care."

"Thank you," I said, and went across the station, to meet Daniel just as he was coming inside. He had a sort of wild-eyed look

about him. As he came closer, I could see he looked frantic.

He took a deep breath, and stopped a couple of feet away from me. "Thank God," he said. "I was afraid I'd get here and you wouldn't be here."

We stood looking at each other for a second. I wanted to rush into his arms, but I was overcome with nerves.

"Hi, Daniel," I said lightly, quietly.

"Hi, Daniel?" he repeated, looking incredulous. "You pull a stunt like this, and all you have to say is 'Hi, Daniel'?"

He turned in anger and opened the door, motioning to me to go out ahead of him.

Once outside, beside the truck, away from other listening ears, he turned on me furiously.

"What in hell are you playin' at?" he said, close to yelling.

"I'm not playing, Daniel, I needed to see you-"

"So you just take off without permission, and don't even bother to let me know that

you're comin'?" he demanded.

"You would have said no," I answered honestly, but without thinking, and in the outside lights I saw

Daniel's jaw tighten.

"Yes, I would have, and you know why! What kind of fool thing is this to do, travelin' all this

way alone, on a bus!"

I stood staring at him, wishing he would run down a little, and give me a hug.

"What if you hadn't been able to get ahold of me?" he demanded. "What would you have done then?

Spent the night here?" Daniel gestured disparagingly towards the bus depot.

"I don't know-" I began.

"Would you want to spend the night here?" Daniel raised his voice. He reached out to take hold of me with both hands, and shook me. Hard. I had to catch

my breath after that shaking. It hurt.

"Would you?" Daniel asked again, even louder, his hands still on my shoulders.

"No," I said, shaking my head, and my eyes filled with tears.

"Don't," he said, letting me go and holding up a hand. "Just don't start with the tears."

"I can't help it-I came all this way, and I really need to talk to you! And I know you have the

right to be mad, but you're just yelling, and-I really need a hug!" I said, stumbling over the words.

"You need somethin' all right," he said darkly, "but I don't think it's a hug. I was thinking

more along the lines of a butt tannin'."

I winced at his words. "Please, Daniel," I said, pleadingly, almost in a whisper.

A moment later, he reached out and yanked me to him, crushing me tight against his chest

in a bear hug.

"Everything is all messed up, Daniel!" I said, against his shirt front.

"Alright. We'll figure it all out. But this wasn't the way to go about it, and you know it."

When I didn't answer, he leaned back, and tilted my chin up so that I had to look at him.

"Was it?" he asked, sternly.

"No," I said, shivering.

He hugged me again, and then said, "Let's get you somewhere to get warm," and opened

the truck door, ushering me into the warmth of the cab.

"I've got to go to work," he told me, as we started driving. "So I'm gonna take you home first."

It felt so strange to hear Daniel say 'home', and know he didn't mean the ranch.

As if he could read my thoughts, he added, "Well, our house, I mean."

"Could I go with you to the club? To hear you play? And see Red, and everything?" I asked.

"No. You're in trouble with me, young lady." He gave me a look across the truck cab, and I didn't need it to be fully lighted

to see the set of his jaw. I could make it out just fine. Unfortunately.

"You don't even know why I came, Daniel!" I protested. "Maybe you won't be so mad at me

when you hear why-"

"It doesn't matter why. This is craziness, Harlie. I can't believe you took such a stupid risk."

"I thought-" I began, and then stopped.

"You thought what?"

"I thought I was coming to understanding. I thought I was coming to-love," I managed.

"I don't know about the understanding," he said. "The jury's still out on that. But, of course you're

coming to love. Don't talk dumb. But it's because of that love that I'm gonna come down hard

on you."

I wasn't sure what he meant by that. And I was fairly sure that I didn't want to know.

For the next few minutes there was silence. Tense, uncomfortable, angry silence. Daniel broke it only to ask, "Did you bring

all your diabetes supplies?"

"Yeah."

"Why didn't you bring a coat?" he demanded then.

"I didn't think about how cold it would be here," I said, still shivering.

Daniel flipped the heat knob up another little ways, and muttered something that sounded like, "Unbelievable."

When Daniel pulled into a residential district, he pulled up in front of what looked like a small

house, though it was hard to tell by the streetlights.

Daniel waited for me to climb out, and he took Evan's bag from my hand, carrying it for me.

"Have you eaten?" he asked, opening the door, and ushering me inside.

"No. I only have twenty dollars, and I thought I might need it. I brought some apples and granola.

I ate most of it on the bus." I shivered, feeling chilled to the bone.

"Alright. Well, you can take a hot shower and get warmed up. I'll throw some food together

for you," Daniel told me.

"You don't have to," I said, feeling guilty. "Don't you have to get to work?"

Instead of answering me, Daniel pointed to a door down the hallway. "Bathroom's that way. Go get a shower."

I went to get my pajamas out of the duffel bag, and went down the hall to the bathroom, where I

showered in the steaming hot water. Any other time, I would have enjoyed immensely having so much unlimited hot

water at my disposal. When I got out, and into my pajamas, I went back out towards the living room. It was empty, but I heard

the clanging of dishes in the kitchen. I went to the kitchen doorway to stand.

"Eggs and fried potatoes," he said. "You can make yourself some

toast, too, if you want."

"Thanks," I said quietly, studying him.

"This is the first time I've been warm in hours," I said, rubbing my hands up and down my

arms.

Daniel cast a glance at my bare feet. "Better get some socks on," he told me. "The floor's probably cold."

"Both of my pairs are wet," I said. "I stepped into a puddle."

When Daniel looked at me, I shrugged. "Long story," I said.

"I'll get you a pair of mine," he said, and went behind me, down the hallway, coming back carrying a pair

of white men's socks. I sat down in one of the kitchen chairs and pulled them on. They were bulky on my feet,

and came up nearly to my knees. Once they were on, I stood up, looking

around the small kitchen and living room again. I thought that though the house was small, it was cozy, too. It had a welcoming

feeling. Daniel went back to the stove, putting some food on a plate.

"I like the house," I told him, hoping he would make conversation with me.

Daniel didn't even respond to my comment, and I felt my heart sink even lower. I'd never seen him so angry, so

closed off. At least never at me.

"Sit down and eat," he ordered, setting the plate on the table.

I sat down. I was hungry, but yet I wasn't. But I knew I needed to eat. I picked up the fork, and started on the

potatoes. They were done just the way I liked them. Crispy. The eggs were good, too.

Daniel sat down at the table at the other end, folding his hands together. He sat that way in silence for a few minutes while I ate, and then said,

"Evan's flipping out."

"He thinks I'm at-" I began.

"I know what he was supposed to think. But now that he knows you're here-that you came all

this way alone, well, he's really upset."

I wanted to ask him why the first thing he'd done was call home, but I didn't. It didn't matter, anyway,

because Daniel read my thoughts correctly.

"I had to call home," he said. "It wouldn't be right not to. I know how worried I'd be-hell, if I'd known

you were on a bus comin' here alone, I would have been frantic."

"But I'm here. And I'm fine," I said, and realized those were the wrong choice of words as Daniel's

eyes narrowed.

"You're here. But I don't know if you're fine. At least you don't deserve to be fine."

"Can't we talk about it, Daniel? Please?"

"We will," he said. "But not right now." He stood up, pushing

in his chair. He took the jacket hanging on the back of the chair, and put it on. "You take my bedroom. It's the one just past the bathroom."

"I don't want to take your room," I protested feebly. "I can sleep on the couch alright-"

"Harlie, do as you're told, alright," he snapped.

"Okay," I mumbled.

"I'm goin' to work. When I leave, you lock the door, finish your supper, and do your shot. When you've done

all that, I want you to call home to talk to Evan. Do you hear?"

I wanted to protest, but I didn't. I nodded to show that I understood.

"Come on," he said, motioning me to stand up and follow him to the door. "So you can lock it behind me."

"Okay," I said.

Daniel opened the door, and then turned to look at me. "I'm so angry at you."

"I know," I said, so low that it was almost a whisper.

"I don't think you do know," he contradicted. "I mean, I'm so mad that I need to leave. Right now. Before I totally lose it

on you."

I caught my breath, staring at him in horror.

I bit at my lip. I'll admit it. I was scared to death right then. I covered my face with my hands, and burst into

tears.

After a couple of moments, I heard Daniel sigh heavily. He reached out to put a hand on my shoulder.

"Stop it," he said, sounding irritated.

I nodded, and I tried, I really did. But the tears just kept falling.

Daniel gave my back a couple of pats. "That's enough."

I was a little encouraged by those pats he gave me. At least it was a start.

I gathered my courage and looked up at him thru my tears. "I love you, Daniel."

"Is that supposed to make me feel guilty?" he asked me. "Or make me soften up, so I don't punish you?"

"No," I said, shaking my head. "I just wanted to say it to you."

Daniel sighed heavily, and then reached out and pulled me into a hug.

"I love you, too," he said, his chin resting on the top of my head.

He pulled back a little, looking down at me. "You might want to remember how much we love each other tomorrow morning

when we sit down to hash this all out. Because it's not going to be pleasant."

I winced, understanding his meaning quite plainly.

"Lock the door, and when you're done eatin', make sure you call home," he reminded me, as he turned to go

out.

"Okay," I said quietly.

When Daniel had gone, I clicked the lock into place, and went back to my plate of food. I'd eaten most of it, and

I couldn't manage any more of it, I knew. My stomach was in knots again. I scraped the leftovers into the trash, and

then did up the dishes. There were quite a few already before Daniel had cooked for me. I wiped down the counters and the

table, and when the kitchen was cleaned, I checked my blood sugar level, and did my shot.

Then, with great reluctance, I faced the telephone.

It rang three times when Guthrie answered.

"Hi, Guth," I said, in response to his hello.

"Har!" he said, sounding breathless. "Are you alright? What were you thinkin'?"

"I'm alright. I just needed to see Daniel."

"You should have told me," he accused, and I heard the hurt in his voice.

I wished now that I would have confided in Guthrie. He might not have been able to help, but he

would have tried. I could have pointed out that he'd been gone, camping, and hadn't been available to talk to, but I decided against it. No point in

making him any more upset at me.

"I wish I'd told you, too," I said.

"I'm pissed at you. Doin' somethin' dumb like this," he grumbled.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I really am, Guth."

"What was the bus ride like?" Guthrie asked, changing the subject.

"Not so great," I told him. "Actually, pretty horrible. Long. And uncomfortable."

"Damn," he said.

"What's Evan doing?" I asked.

"He's cookin' some potatoes and eggs."

"That's what Daniel made, too," I said. I hesitated. "Is Evan really mad?"

"Well, of course he is, what do you think?" Guthrie asked, sounding exasperated.

"I was planning on calling home tomorrow, and letting him know-"

"Hey, he's comin' from the kitchen. You want me to put him on the phone?"

"No," I said honestly. "I don't want you to. But I guess I'd better talk to him. Daniel said

I had to."

"Alright. Hold on."

There was a banging of the phone, and the rumble of talking, and then it sounded like

somebody picked up the receiver. I thought I could hear breathing, but I wasn't sure, because Evan didn't say anything.

"Evan?"

"I'm here," he said curtly.

"I was going to call you tomorrow, and tell you where I was," I said, and even to my own ears.

it sounded like a pathetic excuse.

"You expect me to thank you for that?" Evan asked, his voice taut with anger.

"No. I just thought it would work out so that you wouldn't need to worry-"

"You just thought it would work out so that I wouldn't worry," Evan repeated, in a monotone, as if he couldn't believe what I was saying.

"Well, yeah. "

"How are you going to work out that you lied to me? That you took a stupid risk without

any thought to how I'd feel?" he demanded. "Damn it, Harlie, I was responsible for you!"

"I'm sorry, Evan."

"Well, that's just not good enough."

"Ev-"

"You never would have tried this crap with anybody else. Just me. It sure as hell says a lot

for our relationship," he said furiously.

My throat tightened. I'd known Evan would be mad, but this was something different than anger. Something worse.

"What does that mean?" I managed to ask.

"You know what it means. You have respect for Adam, and Brian and Crane. Hell, Daniel, too! But

when it comes to me, you don't give a shit."

"Is that what you think?!" I burst out. "That I don't respect you? That's not true, Ev!"

"Words don't mean anything, Harlie. Your actions prove you don't." Then, abruptly, his

tone changed to impersonal, and cold, almost as if he were talking to a stranger.

"Daniel and I are gonna talk about how you're gettin' home. I'll let Adam know what's

goin' on."

"Alright. Evan-"

"I'm busy," Evan said shortly. "I need to go."

"Evan! Wait!"

"What?" he snapped.

I tried to find the right words. I started to cry. "We're still friends, though, aren't we?"

"Friends would treat each other better," he said curtly.

I felt as if I'd been slapped.

"You mean, we're nothing to each other, again? Like it used to be?" I asked desparately.

"I'm your brother. Nothing changes that. But as for anything else, forget it," he said.

I wondered what he meant by that, but before I could ask, he said, "I gotta get supper off the

stove."

And click. The phone went silent. He'd hung up.

7


	67. Face the music

I won't lie. I cried myself to sleep that night. I'd known that Daniel would be, for lack of a better word, vexed, at me. But still, I hadn't imagined

my ending to the day going like this. I'd thought maybe that Daniel and I would be sitting together, talking, catching up on things with each other. But no,

here I was, alone, and he'd been so angry that he'd barely talked to me at all. I'd gone to his room, like he'd said, and tried to settle in. The bedroom

was pretty sparse. The only thing that really even made it look as though it was Daniel's room was the family pictures he had setting on the dresser.

I looked at them, picking them each up. There was- Guthrie and Ford. Evan and Diablo. Isaac a few days after he was born. Me with my arms around fat

Clarence, laughing into the camera.

For some reason, seeing that picture of Clarence just set me off to crying again. Poor Clarence. He was probably wondering where I was at.

I curled up in a miserable ball on the bed, pulling my legs up tight.

I must have been more tired than I'd thought I was. I'd figured I wouldn't be able to go to sleep at all, but I did. It was a long while later, though I

don't know exactly what time it was, that I thought I heard a sound in the room, and then the door being closed softly.

I knew it was Daniel, home from the club, coming to check on me.

7

When I woke up the next morning, it took me a couple of moments to remember where I was. And how I'd gotten here. And how mad Daniel

was about everything. And that, of course, made me not want to get up at all. I laid there for a while, staring at the ceiling fan, going round and round. There was a tap on the door, and I sat up swiftly, swinging my legs over the side of the bed.

"Harlie? You awake?" Daniel asked, from outside the door.

"Yes," I said, and he opened the door.

"Breakfast in ten minutes," he said.

"Okay," I said, trying to study his face, and see if I could determine just where I stood, and how much, if any, cooling off he had done since

last night.

It was too hard to decipher at that moment, though. He looked, well, determined. And his voice was calm enough. I hoped that was a good

sign.

When he'd gone, closing the door behind him, I plunged into Evan's duffle bag, and retrieved my clean pair of jeans, and a Hank Williams t-shirt,

pulling them on. I ran a brush thru my hair, and swept it up into a ponytail.

I went down the hall towards the kitchen, and when I heard voices, someone talking to Daniel, and recognized the other

voice as Red's, I don't think I'd been quite so glad about anything for a long, long time.

Red was here! Of course he lived here! But he was here right now, and that's what was important. Maybe Daniel wouldn't be

quite so harsh with Red here.

I went into the kitchen, and Red, sitting at the table, a stack of pancakes on the plate in front of him, looked up at me as I came in.

"My darlin'," he said fondly, and stood up to wrap me into a tight bear hug.

"Hi, Red," I greeted him, in genuine gladness.

He stepped back to survey me. "It's not possible," he said. "But it must be. You're prettier than you were when I saw you

last winter."

"Thank you," I told him.

He released me, and sat back down in his chair.

Daniel turned from putting the griddle into the sink, and sat down at the table, too. He forked several pancakes onto his plate, and

then said, "Sit down and eat," to me.

I settled into the chair across the table from him, and took a pancake, and a piece of bacon.

Daniel pushed a pitcher closer to me. "Orange juice," he said.

"Thanks," I said, and poured a glass of the juice.

I'm used to putting jelly or peanut butter on my pancakes at home, because syrup has so much sugar in it, but when I reached for the

jelly, Daniel turned a bottle of syrup to face me, so that I could read the label.

"I got you some sugar free syrup," he said.

For a moment, my throat caught in emotion. As mad as he was at me, he'd stopped at a store late last night sometime to buy me

sugar-free syrup?

"Thanks, Daniel," I managed. He gave me a brief nod, but didn't say anything. Other than Red making a couple of comments

about the crowd at the Palamino Club the night before, it was a silent meal. Daniel looked serious, contemplative, deep in thought. And I

was too nervous and miserable to try to make conversation.

I was halfway thru my pancake when Red stood up, taking his empty plate to the sink.

"I'll be off," he said. He tugged on my ponytail. "I'll see you later, my darlin'."

I caught at his hand, wanting to ask him not to go. Not to leave me here with this angry, silent Daniel.

I looked at him silently, pleadingly, but he gave just the slightest shake of his head at me, as if to say that I had to face

the music. And then he was gone, the sound of the front door closing behind him.

And we were there, alone. Daniel and I. In tense silence. He finished eating, and put his plate in the sink, too.

"Do you want more?" he asked me, picking up the plate with the pancakes on it.

"No, thank you," I said. I didn't think I could finish what I had on my plate now.

Daniel started putting everything into the refrigerator, and then he poured a cup of coffee just as the phone started ringing.

He went to answer it, and even though he talked in a low tone, I could hear enough to know he was talking to someone at home.

About me.

I could catch a word here and there. "Safe." "Fine." "Don't worry." "I know."

I dreaded having Daniel call me to the phone. What was going to be said to me? I put my fork down. Waiting. In misery.

But he didn't call me to the telephone. Instead I heard him say goodbye, and then he came back into the kitchen. He refilled his cup of coffee, and

then turned to look at me.

"Finish your breakfast," he said.

"I'm finished," I said.

He gave my plate another glance-over, and then he nodded. "Alright," he said. "Come on into the living room then."

Those words had an ominous sound to them.

But there was no use putting it off. I got up and scraped my pancake into the trash can, and put the plate in the sink.

I went into the living room, where Daniel was sitting on the couch, leaning forward a little, his hands clasped in front of him.

"Sit down here," he told me, pointing to the ottoman directly in front of him.

His tone was still brusque, but I tried to feel hopeful. Maybe he was ready to talk to me. To listen.

I sat down where he told me, which meant that our knees were nearly close enough to touch.

"Do you have any idea," he began, "how wigged out you've got everybody at home?"

Well, there wasn't really an answer for that. But I tried.

"I know," I said.

"No," he said, his voice rising over mine. "I don't think you do know. You don't know at all. But you should, This Jane Bond adventure of

yours has got Hannah crying her heart out!" He gave me an angry look. "And I don't think I've heard Adam sound like he did, well, for a

long time."

The thought of Hannah so upset that she was crying got to me. Hannah's not a crier. And if she does need to have a good cry, she

does it in private. For Daniel to know she was crying so much meant that she wasn't being so private about it.

"Well?" he snapped, so sharply that I jumped a little. "Don't you have somethin' to say?"

"I don't want Hannah to feel bad," I said.

That seemed to make him even madder. "How is she supposed to feel?" he demanded, with sarcasm. "Happy and elated? When one of their

kids run away, there's not goin' to be any good feelings about that."

I blinked at that comment. "But I didn't," I protested.

"You didn't what?" he asked, not gently.

"I didn't run away."

"What?" he demanded, in an irritated tone.

"I didn't run away," I said again. "I ran to. To you."

Daniel looked at me as if he couldn't believe what I was saying.

"Do you know what?" he asked me then.

"What?"

"That is the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

I looked at him in trepidation. "Why is it dumb?" I asked.

"Explain to me what your definition of running away is."

I hesitated. "Running away is taking off, not telling anybody where you're going-"

"Exactly," Daniel said.

"Yes, but it's going somewhere where you can't be found," I protested. "I didn't do that. I came to you."

Daniel lifted his eyes heavenward, as though trying to draw strength.

"Did anybody know where you were going?" he asked. "Did any of us know where you really were for those 20-something

hours that you were on that damn bus?"

I bit at my lip, and then shook my head, just the slightest bit.

"Answer me," Daniel ordered.

"No," I said, and then when it looked as though he thought I was telling him 'no', that I was refusing to answer him, I

hurriedly tacked on, "Nobody knew where I was. During that time."

"Right." Daniel leaned closer, so that his face was literally just inches from mine. "So let's call it what it is. Without putting

a word switch, or different spin on it. It was running away, Harlie!"

I wanted to say something, to continue to protest that I hadn't 'run away', as he said. But the look on his face made me

keep any arguments to myself.

He leaned back again, studying me with a intentness that made my middle flinch in nerves.

"I've been tryin' to figure out where your brain was at," he said, "but I just can't come up with anything, that would

explain why you would think doing somethin' like this was even remotely a good idea."

"I needed to see you!" I told him. "It's been too long!"

"So now this is my fault?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at me. "Because I haven't been home in a while, I somehow forced you

to pull this stupid stunt?"

"I didn't say it was your fault," I denied. "It wasn't. Not at all." I tried to find the right words. The ones that would get

thru to Daniel, and swing him over to understanding. "I just-needed to see you. You're my buddy, Daniel."

I hoped valiantly that those last four words would soften him. For a moment, and just for a moment, I thought that I'd succeeded.

Something passed over his face, and he gave a slight nod.

"Yeah. Buddies. That's us," he said.

Then he leaned forward again, resting his hands on my knees. "But you don't need a buddy right now. You need me to be

somethin' different. Somethin' stronger, that helps you understand what you've done."

I studied him, not grasping what he was getting at.

"Come on," he said, taking my wrist in his hand, and pulling me over to sit beside him on the couch. Then, before I even

realized his intention, I was across his knee, staring at the floor, and the toe of his boot.

7


	68. The dawn of an understanding

Daniel didn't just spank me. Every few swats he would stop, and lecture me. The first time he stopped, I was limp with

relief, thinking it was done and over. But no. He said more about how I needed to take responsibility and admit that what I'd

done had been running away, plain and simple. Then he went back to paddling my backside.

In all my growing up years, Daniel had given me, at most, a couple of smacks when he was annoyed, and wanted to

make a point with me. It seemed to me now that he'd been 'saving up' huge amounts of aggravation and was letting it all free.

I put back a hand to protect my rear, but all that accomplished was for him to capture my wrist and hold it behind my back.

"I understand!" I hollered.

"You understand what?" he asked me, pausing to listen to me.

I tried to catch my breath. "I-understand that it was-running away! It was wrong and stupid!"

"Uh huh," he said, sounding unconvinced. "What else?"

My hair was coming loose from my ponytail band, with all the thrashing around I was doing. I pushed it out of my face, and then had

to put my hand back on Daniel's lower leg to steady myself.

"I understand!" I said again. "Please! I get it! Can't we talk?"

"We'll talk," he said. "When we're done here." And then he started in blistering me again.

"It was selfish! I was only thinking about myself!" I hollered. I was feeling hysterical, thinking he was never going to stop.

He stopped then, and waited, while I tried to get myself under some sort of control.

"You need to recognize what hurt you've caused, Harlie," Daniel said, in a quiet voice.

"Yes," I managed, my breathing still ragged.

"Alright. I'm gonna let you up, but you're not off the hook. We're gonna talk, long and hard, and I better see some

regret and responsibility from you, or you'll be right back here. Understand?"

"Yes," I said again, and he sat me back up, next to him on the couch, and I swiped at my wet

face. Daniel stood up, long enough to grab a box of Kleenex from the coffee table, and then he sat back down, holding

the box out to me without saying anything.

I took a handful of tissues, and he set the box down on the other end of the couch. Then he just leaned back against the back of the couch,

and sat there, watching me, but still not saying anything.

I mopped at my face with the Kleenex, and kept my face turned from his. I was feeling so many things right then. One huge thing being

embarrassment.

"Can I go wash my face?" I asked him, in a really low voice.

I think Daniel knew that 'wash my face' was really a roundabout way of saying 'getting myself together'.

But he said, "Yeah. Go on."

I got up and practically ran down the hallway to the small bathroom.

I closed the door, and turned on the water. Mostly to cover up the sound of my crying. He didn't need to know just

how much pain I was in, I thought righteously. Then I realized just how dumb that really was. After all, he'd been the one

that had done the applying of what seemed like a hundred swats to my butt. He would know exactly how much I was hurting.

I cried for another five minutes, according to the small clock on the wall. Then I started dabbing cold water onto my face, and then

patted it dry with the towel from the towel rack. When I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror over the sink, I thought that I'd never

looked so horrible. I looked as though I'd gone three rounds with Mike Tyson.

I'd been ten minutes by now, and I took a deep breath, trying to gather my courage. I opened the door and went back down the hallway.

I went slowly, but I went. Daniel was sitting on the couch, in the same spot and I sat down again, next to him, trying not to wince as I did so.

I gave him a wary glance.

"I know it doesn't seem like it right now, but I really do love ya," Daniel said, sort of quietly.

"If I didn't care, I wouldn't be so darn hard on you," he went on. "I'm tryin' to make you realize some things."

"I know," I managed to say.

"It's okay if you wanna be mad at me about it for awhile," he said, quietly.

This was the nicest he'd talked to me since I'd gotten here. For a minute I wasn't sure what to think.

"Did you talk to Evan last night?" he asked me then.

I nodded, still not looking directly at him.

"How'd that go?" he asked.

"He didn't want to talk to me," I admitted.

"Yeah," he said, not sounding surprised.

For a moment I thought I might have heard a touch of sympathy in his voice. I twisted to look at him more closely.

"He doesn't want anything to do with me," I said, tears welling in my eyes again.

"Ah, that's not true," he denied.

"He said so," I sniffled.

"He used those words?" Daniel specified.

I thought for a minute, trying to remember the exact wording that Evan had used. "He said that he was my brother, but

that as far as anything else, to just forget about it."

"Hmmm," Daniel said, looking serious. "Well, part of this whole mess, a big part of it, is going to be the hard work it takes you to make things right with the family,"

"How can I show it, though?" I asked him.

"You're gonna have to figure it out. It's not somethin' that's gonna happen in just a day or two," he told me.

"What did Adam say?" I asked tremulously, not certain that I wanted to hear the answer.

"He's upset." Daniel gave me a steady look. "He's real hurt."

"You mean he's angry?" I said.

"He is. But mostly, he's hurt."

I felt as though my chest was tightening. At my puzzled look, Daniel went on, "He feels as though he let you down."

"He didn't," I protested.

"Well, that's how he feels. That he wasn't there for you enough to help you work thru everything, with the whole Karissa

thing."

"He did his best," I said, loyally. "Brian, too. They all did their best. They just didn't know what to say."

Daniel reached over and captured one of my curls, and ran it between his fingers. It was a sweet, brotherly gesture, and one

that bespoke of the way that he and I usually interacted. I caught my breath at his gentleness, and met his eyes, full on.

"I'm sorry for scaring you," I said, and I meant it. "Just calling and springing it on you that I was here like I did."

There was a glimmer of a smile at the corner of Daniel's mouth.

"Yeah. From the time you told me you were in town, until I saw you in the bus station, it took ten years off my life, I think," he said.

"Sorry," I said again, and looked at him, my eyes saying what I didn't feel that I could. I hoped he could read the trueness

of my words in my eyes.

Daniel sighed then, and put his arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer, until I was tight against his side.

"Those ten years?" he said then, "That's ten years I can't spare."

I pressed my face into his shoulder, and he wrapped his other arm around me, too.

And then I began to cry again. But this was a different sort of crying. The fight and anger were gone from me. Even the embarrassment

at him spanking me like he had faded away, just a little. It just felt so darn good to have him hugging me. This crying was sort of a relief. I think some

of it was even about missing Doc G, still. And all the uncertainty about Karissa. The regrets and the worry.

Daniel tightened his arms around me, and just held me while I cried. He was quiet, not telling me to stop, or anything like that.

Finally, I was spent. Worn out, almost. And all done crying. At least for the moment. I had a feeling I'd be crying a lot as I tried to

talk to my other brothers.

We were both quiet then, for awhile, just sitting there.

"I was feeling overwhelmed," I confided, into that silence.

"It's been a lot for you to deal with," Daniel said.

"I tried to talk to Karissa," I told him. "Did you know that?"

"No. I didn't."

"It was a mistake. I've made a lot of mistakes lately," I said, with regret.

Daniel didn't deny that. "Admitting that's the first step," he told me.

7

After that, Daniel said we'd talk more later. "We'll be doin' a lot of talking in the next few days," he added.

"Okay," I said, not sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

We went to the kitchen together, and I did up the breakfast dishes while he started making bacon and tomato sandwiches for lunch.

Red came home, and hesitated at the kitchen doorway. "Is it safe to come in?" he asked, with a wink at me.

I turned red in the face, wondering if he knew about the spanking.

"All clear," Daniel said, as he flipped the strips of bacon in the skillet.

We sat down to lunch, and then Daniel said that after they ate, they were going to rehearsal at the club, to prepare for that

night's show.

I wanted to go. I mean, I desparately wanted to go. But I figured there was no use in asking. Even though Daniel and I had

ended up on a more understanding, amicable note earlier, I still knew better than to ask for any privileges. I didn't figure that he'd

say I could go,

So I sat quiet, eating my lunch, and then clearing the table, as they discussed the set list for that night.

"You comin' with, my darlin'?" Red asked me, as he got to his feet, and pulled on his jacket.

I turned from stacking the dishes on the counter to look towards him, and then at Daniel, who was pulling on his own jacket.

"I don't know," I said, waiting to see what Daniel would say.

"You can come," he said.

So I tagged along, to the club, where I sat at a front table, drinking ginger ale and watching the band rehearse. One of the other guys

in the band, who Daniel introduced as Jed, played drums, and he looked as though he was in his early twenties or so.

He was a flirt, too, and though I saw him flirting with the waitresses and servers, he also flirted with me.

"Whoo whee, Daniel," he said, in a thick Southern drawl, and smiling at me, "Is this how they grow the girls in

California? Because, dang, I think I might move there!"

I smiled at his effusive flattery, knowing he was teasing. Daniel growled a little, in warning, but I could tell he was joking

right back.

"Hands off, Jed," he said. "Little sisters are off limits."

In return Jed just laughed. I drank my ginger ale, and listened to them rehearse. I was sorry when we were done, and headed

back to the little house.

When Daniel checked the answering machine messages, there was one from home. Brian.

His voice sounded a little stilted, forced. "Hey there, Dan'l," he said. "Just checking in. Tell Harlie I'd like to talk

to her."

I bit my lip, listening to his voice. Daniel turned and looked at me.

He didn't say anything, though, and I was glad. The three of us played a game of cards, and then they both settled down in the

living room, with Red reading, and Daniel scribbling on a notepad.

I asked them what they were going to eat for supper, and Daniel said, "Sandwiches," without looking up from his writing. I went to the

kitchen, rooting thru the refrigerator freezer. I found a package of pork chops, and took them out, defrosting them in the microwave.

I fried the pork chops, and made rice to go with it, and then a tossed salad, with onions and tomatoes in it. I made some sweet tea, and

set the table. When I went back into the living room, Red looked up and sniffed in appreciation.

"Something's sure smelling good in there," he said.

Supper's ready whenever you guys are," I told them.

They wasted no time in getting to the table, and they both ate heartily, taking seconds of everything.

Red raved about my cooking, saying, "First decent meal I've had since I last ate Hannah's cooking," he said.

A comment which had Daniel responding jokingly with, "You don't like my cooking, old man, you don't have to eat it."

"I could make some brownies, or lemon bars, or something," I said. "If you've got all the ingredients."

"I doubt we do," Daniel said. "Write it on the list on the refrigerator if you want somethin' from the store."

Talking about lemon bars made me think of Ford. I was struck with a bolt of longing for him.

"Can I use the phone later?" I asked Daniel, as I started washing the dishes.

"Yep. Anytime you want to call home, you can. You don't have to ask," he said, sounding glad.

"It's actually Ford I was thinking of calling," I told him.

"Hmm," he said. "Well, sure, you can call him." After a moment he added, "What about Brian? You plan on calling him back?"

"I'm scared," I admitted.

"Yeah," Daniel said.

Before he left the kitchen to go change into his clothes for work that night, he said quietly, "You can't hide forever, you know."

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Greeting to reviewers!

I want to thank everyone for the reviews. I am so glad that the story is being enjoyed. A few thoughts of mine about some of the reviews are: I myself

just can't see any of the guys using a belt or anything like that on Harlie. It just seems too much, you know? I agree with the reviewers who suggest

that this is very hard for Daniel, and I will address this in the next couple of chapters or so. One review suggested that it should not have been Daniel who

took Harlie in hand like this, but that he should have waited for Adam to deal with her. I don't agree with that because that is sort of like the old way some

moms used to say 'wait until your father gets home' to their kids. Daniel is eight years older than Harlie, and it wouldn't have been responsible of him

to play the 'fun' brother only. Again, thanks everybody! Long live the McFaddens!


	69. Perils of the laundromat

I'd learned that the truck that Daniel had picked me up in at the bus depot was his, that he'd bought recently. Daniel cautioned me

to lock the door behind them again, and they left in his new truck. When I was alone, I finished cleaning the kitchen, and swept the floor.

I got into my pajamas, folding my jeans and thinking that I could wear them again the next day. My other pair that I'd brought with me

was muddy on the bottom of the legs, from when I'd stepped into that puddle.

I thought that I'd have to ask Daniel about going to the laundromat to wash my stuff.

I called Ford's dorm, and waited while whoever answered the phone went to hunt him down.

"Hullo?" he said, when he finally answered.

"Hi, Fordie," I said.

"Har!" he said, his voice glad.

"What are you doing?" I asked him.

"Studying for a test tomorrow."

"What class?"

"Calculus," he said.

"Glad it's you and not me," I told him lightly.

"Your turn is comin'. You'd better start preparing for it."

"I was thinking of making lemon bars. It got me to thinking about you," I told him.

"I wish I was there to eat 'em," he said, sounding regretful.

"Have you talked to home lately?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

"Um, Saturday morning I think it was. Why? What's up?"

"I'm at Daniel's. I just thought they might have told you-"

There was a huge commotion in the background, thumping and hollering, and then Ford said, "Say it again, I couldn't hear

you."

"I'm at Daniel's."

"Yeah? How'd that happen? Crane take you for spring break, or what?"

Then, for the first time, I remembered on my birthday in October, that Crane's gift to me had been a future trip

to Nashville together at some point, him and I, to see Daniel. I felt a pit begin in my stomach, and I sat down on the corner of the couch,

stretching the cord between my fingers.

"No. Not with Crane," I said.

"What, then?" he asked.

"I came on the bus. By myself," I said.

"That's not funny, Har," Ford said.

"I'm serious," I said, and waited.

There was the longest silence, and I thought maybe we had gotten disconnected, or something.

"Ford?" I said questioningly.

"I can't believe you," he said, sounding mad.

"It was dumb. I know."

"You can say that again. Except that dumb is pretty mild. Raise it up to stupid, and it'll be closer. And besides, you broke your promise to me."

"What promise?" I asked, honestly puzzled.

"The day I drove you to school, the last time I was home, you swore to me that you wouldn't run off over this

whole custody thing!"

Oh. That conversation was coming back to me now. I had said something along those lines to Ford.

"Oh," I said, in a small voice.

There was another loud commotion in the hallway behind Ford, and then, even when it was quiet again, neither one of us

said anything for a few moments.

"I'm sorry I broke my promise, Ford," I said.

Ford made a sort of huffing noise in response.

"I wasn't thinking about anybody but me," I said, in honesty.

"Yeah." He was quiet again. And then he said, "Adam's gonna flip on you."

"I know," I said, my stomach knotting.

"What'd Daniel say?" he asked me then.

I hesitated. "He was angry."

"I hope he kicked your butt," Ford said.

"He did."

A pause. Then Ford said, sounding less ticked off, "Well, I'm glad you're okay. Safe and everything."

"Yeah."

Another pause.

"I'll make you some lemon bars when you come home," I told him.

"I'll eat them," he agreed. "When are you goin' home?"

"I don't know. We haven't talked about any of that."

There was talking in the background, and then Ford said, "Hey, somebody wants to use the phone. I'll talk to you later,

alright?"

"Okay."

"Call me back tomorrow night if you want," he offered.

"Okay."

"Try not to be a knothead," he warned me. "Okay?"

"I love you, Ford."

"Love you, too. Bye."

7

After that, I read awhile. I hadn't brought a book with me, but I was so bored that I flipped thru most of the magazines that

Red and Daniel had laying around. Mostly music magazines. Since that doesn't particularly interest me, it didn't take long.

I plinked away at the piano for awhile, and while doing that I realized that it had been forever since I'd practiced piano.

It seemed as though I hadn't done much of anything for a long time. Except worry, and get into trouble, I thought honestly.

It was while I was sorting thru the sheet music in the piano bench, that the phone began to ring. Instantly, I tensed up.

It was someone from home. I knew it.

Only it wasn't. It was just a telemarketer. Leaving a message on the answering machine.

I actually picked the phone receiver up, and started to dial home. But then I lost my nerve. I hung the phone up,

and did my shot, and went to bed.

7

I slept late the next morning. It was close to 8:30 by the time I woke up, and pulled on my jeans from the previous day, and my last

clean t-shirt, which was just a plain blue one. I went down the hallway and to the kitchen. The house was quiet, and there was

a note on the kitchen table, tucked under a plate with what looked like blueberry muffins on it.

I picked it up to read,

"Muffins and juice for breakfast. Gone to run errands.

Be back in a few.

D"

I poured myself a glass of juice, and took one of the muffins, biting into it. Yep. Blueberry. I grabbed an apple off the table,

and took my breakfast to the living room, curling up on the couch to watch television. At this time of day, and on a Wednesday morning,

there wasn't really anything on to watch. I listened to the news reports while I ate, getting up to turn it off when Daniel's key

clicked in the lock, and he came in the door, carrying a jug of milk and a newspaper.

"Hey," I greeted him.

"Morning."

He headed toward the kitchen and I tagged along after him, as he laid the newspaper on the table, and put the milk into

the refrigerator.

"Did you eat?" he asked me.

"Yes."

"Have you been checking your level and all of that?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Okay," he said, and poured a cup of coffee, picked up the newspaper, and headed back towards the living room.

I followed again, still carrying my glass of apple juice.

"I guess I slept a long time," I said, making conversation.

"Yeah. I figured you needed it, so I left you be."

"I guess I was tired," I said.

"It probably wasn't very comfortable, sleepin' on that bus, was it?" he asked, giving me a glance.

I felt my face warm a little at the mention of that bus ride.

"No. Definitely not comfortable," I said.

Daniel sat down on the couch, shaking open the newspaper. I sat down in the middle of the couch, almost next to him.

"Want some of the paper?" he offered.

"The comics," I said, and he flipped thru until he came to the comic section, and handed it to me.

We read for awhile, without talking much, until I remembered my clothes that needed washing.

"Do you think I could go to the laundromat?" I asked. "I'm pretty much down to nothing clean."

"We usually go on Sundays," he said, "but if you need to go, we can go today before rehearsal."

"Where is it?" I asked.

"A couple of streets over, just out of the residential district."

"If you tell me which way it is, I can go," I told him, and Daniel lowered the newspaper to give me a

look.

"I don't want you goin' anywhere by yourself. Not the laundromat, not around the block, nowhere."

I wanted to ask why, but then I figured it must be because he didn't trust me or something, so I masked my hurt

feelings, and said, "Okay."

"This isn't like bein' at home," he went on. "This neighborhood definitely isn't like Murphys."

"You mean not safe?" I asked.

"No so much," he said, and I felt a little better then. It wasn't really that he didn't trust me, it was more that

he wanted me to be safe.

"Get your stuff gathered up, and we'll go here in a bit," he told me.

"Okay," I said, and went to do that.

We drove to the laundromat later, and after I'd started my clothes in one of the machines, I thought maybe we

could drive around a little, but Daniel said no, that we needed to wait right there until the clothes were done.

"How come?" I asked.

"When I first came to town, I left for an hour one time and when I came back, some fool had taken most of my clothes."

My eyes widened a little. "You're kidding!"

"Nope. I'm not kidding. Let me tell you somethin'. When you walk in with five pairs of britches, and walk back out with

none, it's an eye-opener."

I couldn't help a smile. "That's funny, though."

"Not true," he said. "Not a darn thing funny about it."

So we sat there while my clothes ran thru the wash cycle, people-watching. There was an amazing amount of people in and

out just in the time we sat there. One guy came in, and he didn't even have any laundry to do. He wandered around the room,

checking the pay phone and the machine that sells detergent for change that had been left. Then he sat over to the side, mumbling to

himself, and occasionally laughing. When he walked by us, the scent of marijuana floated off of him.

I nudged Daniel in the ribs. "He's gone out in space somewhere," I said, in a low voice.

"Yep."

When I'd switched my clothes to a dryer, and then sat back beside Daniel, the laundromat was clearing out a little. The man who talked to

himself checked all the places where loose coins might have been left again, and then flashed a peace sign at Daniel and I, and left, going

outside, where he nearly walked in front of an oncoming car.

"Wow," I said. "He acts sort of like the guy at the bus station. He looked like an old hippie, and he was so high that I think

somebody could have gotten a buzz just by standing next to him. He kept asking me to go to the diner across the street with him-"

That got Daniel's full attention directed at me, and I stopped talking, realizing my mistake. His eyes darkened a little.

"Tell me about it," he said, sounding irritable.

"Forget I said anything," I said.

"No. You wanted to tell it. So tell it," he said.

"The man who works there says he hangs around there a lot. He asked me to go eat with him," I said, hoping that

he would be satisfied.

"No clue," Daniel said, sounding mad. "You have no clue at all what could have happened to you!"

"I knew better than to go!" I protested.

"What do ya think you'd have done if he'd kept on asking? If he hadn't taken no for an answer?" Daniel demanded.

"I know what could have happened," I said quietly. "I do."

When he just gave me an almost-angry look and didn't say anything, I said, "I've learned my lesson, Daniel."

After a long moment, he sighed. "Alright. Do you have any other trip adventures that I need to be told about?"

"No."

He still looked irritated, and so I tacked on quietly, half-seriously, "Sir."

"Hmm." He leaned back a little in the chair, and clasped his arms behind his head, closing his eyes.

"I like that sir stuff," he said.

7


	70. Beginnings of an apology

After we were finished at the laundromat I shoved my dry, clean clothes back into Evan's duffel bag, and we left. Daniel drove around for

awhile, pointing out the Ryman Auditorium to me.

"That's where the Grand Old Opry was held at until about 1974," he told me, pulling over in front of the building and parking, so that I could see better.

I rolled the window down, ignoring the blast of cold air, and looked at the Auditorium.

"Have you been to the Grand Old Opry since you've been here?" I asked him.

"Yeah. Six or seven times."

"Wow," I said, looking at him as I rolled up the window again.

"I better get back and get some lunch, so Red and I can get to rehearsal," Daniel said, as he pulled out into the lane of

traffic.

"Okay." I hesitated. "Is there a library around close by?"

"Not too far. Why?"

"I wondered if I could maybe check out a couple of books. I've pretty much looked at all your musician magazines."

"Gettin' bored, huh?" he guessed, correctly.

I didn't want to admit to being bored, and having Daniel think I was being a complainer, so I shrugged, and said,

"I was practicing the piano awhile yesterday."

"Where you? That's good."

"Yeah."

After a couple of moments, he said, "We can go to the library tomorrow, if you want to."

"Okay. Thanks."

After a few minutes, I worked up my nerve, and said, quietly, "Daniel?"

"Hmm?"

"When am I going home?"

Daniel turned to look at me, and then looked back at the highway in front of him again.

"That's not set in stone yet, I don't think," he said.

"Oh."

He looked towards me again. "Are you ready for home?"

I knew he meant home, and everything that went along with it. Facing everybody, and owning up to what I'd done. Trying to make

amends. All of that.

"I'm scared about it," I admitted.

He nodded, as if he understood.

"I mean, but I'm missing it, too. The sunshine, and the dogs. And-" I hesitated. "Everybody."

"They're all missin' you too."

"Maybe not," I said.

"You know they are," he corrected me.

I bit my lip, and picked at a spot on my jeans. "I hope so."

He didn't say anymore for a couple of minutes, and I asked, "When I do go home, are you going to take me?"

"You think you're gonna go on a Greyhound by yourself?" Daniel asked, sounding irritated. "I think that's been done already, right?"

"I meant, if you were going to take me, or if somebody from home was coming to get me?" I said.

"We're still talkin' about all of that."

"Oh," I said, and then subsided into silence.

We were nearly back to the little house when Daniel asked me, "Did you talk to Ford last night?"

"Yeah," I said, perking up a little at the mention of Ford.

"He doin' alright?" Daniel asked.

"I think so. He was studying for a calculus test."

"The boy is motivated," Daniel said.

"I wish I could be more like Ford sometimes," I said. "And Guthrie, too. Ford's always so focused, and Guthrie's so-" I hesitated, thinking

of the right words, "so happy-go-lucky."

"Ford was born old," Daniel said. "Steady. And Guthrie, well, he got that from mom. She used to just fly around, singing all the time."

We were on the street of the house, and Daniel pulled up behind Red's parked truck, and stopped, shutting off the engine. Instead of getting

out, he sat there and turned towards me. "Wishing to be like somebody else, that never works. You're who you are. You have the talents and personality that

are just yours, and nobody else's. You're smart. You have a lot of things going for you, and that's pretty darn special."

"You think that? Even after what I did?" I asked.

"I know you're smart, if that's what you mean."

"Thanks, Daniel," I said, feeling humbled.

"You're in too much of a hurry," he said. "I understand that, because I was like that, too. Adam and Brian used to come down on me for it

all the time. You're gonna have to learn to stand still, and let things get better. Before you react and do somethin' wrong. Just settle down a

little, squirt, and everything will work out."

For a moment, I couldn't swallow, there was such a lump in my throat. I felt my eyes fill with easy tears.

"What's the matter?" he asked me.

"You called me squirt," I said.

"So what?" he asked, obviously puzzled.

"You haven't called me that since I got here," I pointed out. I bit my lip. "It's just nice to hear it again. Really nice."

Daniel shook his head a little. "Crazy kid," he muttered, taking off his ball cap and putting it on my head, yanking it down over

my eyes.

7

After a lunch of stew that Red had pulled out of the freezer, it was rehearsal time. Again, Daniel said I could tag along. I

was glad about that. Even going to the laundromat earlier in the day had been a break, getting out of the house. I wasn't used to staying

inside all the time the way I had been the last couple of days.

Once we were at the club, the band set up for rehearsal, and I sat in my spot, at the front table, drinking ginger ale again.

Once back home, the time sort of dragged until it was time to eat supper. Daniel made homemade macaroni and cheese,

with green beans from our garden, that Hannah had sent with him the last time he was home.

When Daniel and Red were heading out for the evening, Daniel was reminding me again to lock the door behind them.

I told him I would, and he paused to look at me, his dark eyes serious.

"Did you call Brian back?" he asked me quietly.

I shook my head.

"How come?" he asked.

"I'm afraid, Daniel."

"I know you are, but you need to suck it up," Daniel said, and he was all stern again, like he'd been the day before. "Brian called.

He wants to talk to you. You need to give him the respect for that, and call."

I sighed a little. I could tell Daniel was going to stop leaving it to me, and start ordering me to call home.

When I didn't respond, he reached out and tugged on my braid. "Are you listening?"

"Yes," I said, sighing again.

"Okay." He said, 'See you later', and followed Red outside.

I clicked the lock into place, wandering into the kitchen. I cleaned up, wiping everything down, and sweeping again.

Then I went to take another long, hot shower. I couldn't get over what a novelty it was to have an unlimited amount of hot

water that way. It would be so nice if our house had a hot water heater like this one. The thought of home, and our

comfortable, somewhat-shabby house, made me catch my breath.

Well, I had every intention of calling home. I really did. I was just trying to figure out a way to insure that Brian himself would answer

the phone. Or Clare. Or Guthrie.

I didn't want Evan to answer. Or Hannah. And definitely I didn't want Adam to answer. Just the thought of talking to Adam

make my knees feel weak. I was conflicted about talking to Crane, if he should answer. I wanted to. I wasn't really afraid to

talk to Crane. But yet, another part of me wanted to postpone him, as well.

It wasn't like I really wanted to talk to Brian, either. I mean, I was super scared of what he was going to say. But, since he'd called

the night before, and left that message about wanting to talk to me...well, that sort of put him at the top of the list, I guess.

But instead of calling right away, I sorted thru the sheet music, and sat down at the piano again. I did some scales and then

tried playing a few of the songs. I was really out of practice. After awhile, though, I found myself sort of melting into the music and

enjoying it. I needed to keep it up at home, I thought.

It was nearly eight-thirty by now. I put the sheet music away, and lowered the lid on the piano keys. Then I sat there, staring at the

phone. I picked it up, and then put it back down again.

"Coward," I muttered to myself.

Then, just as I was reaching for it again, it began to ring. I snatched my hand back as if the phone receiver was hot.

It rang three times, and then the answering machine clicked on.

After Daniel's recorded greeting, and instructions to leave a message, there was a slight hesitation, and then a little clearing of

his throat, and then Brian's voice.

"Hey. I reckon you're at work, Dan'l. And Harlie, I figure it's after eight there now. I wanted to talk to you." There was just

a moment or so of quiet, and then he said, "I guess you're not there. Alright, then, but I'm not kidding about wanting

to talk to you." I could hear him sigh a little. "Bye."

I reacted before I lost any nerve that I had left. Which wasn't much.

I picked up the receiver. "Brian?" I said.

There was a moment, and then he said, "Hey," in sort of a surprised tone.

"Hi." I said.

"Are you alright?" he asked then, and I thought his voice sounded sort of funny. Stilted.

"I'm okay," I said, subdued. I really had to idea where to go with this, or what to say. Should I jump right in with

apologies? Or wait for him to let me have it?

My knees felt as though they were practically knocking together. I sat down in the nearest chair to the phone.

"What were you thinkin'?" he said then. His voice was quiet enough, but there was an angry undertone to it.

"I wasn't thinking at all," I said. "Only about myself."

He was silent then, until I felt compelled to speak into the silence.

"I know my words don't mean anything right now, but I-" I hesitated. "I wish I hadn't done it."

"Me, too," he said, sounding grim.

I was quiet then, trying not to start crying.

He was quiet, too, and then said, "So it's eight there?"

"Yeah. About eight-thirty. What time is it there?" I asked.

"Six-thirty."

"Oh. What was the temperature there today?" I asked.

"It got up to 68, I think."

"It's so cold here," I told him, and then wondered when he was going to stop making small talk with me, and tell

me, in minute detail, exactly what he was going to do to me when I got home.

"Is it?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said, and then tapered off into silence again.

"A lot of people are hurtin' here at home over this, Harlie. Hurting bad," he said, and I could hear the fury in his voice, that he was trying to control.

I didn't think saying that I was sorry was the right thing. It would sound so-well trite. I didn't know what to say. So I said what

came out first.

"Sorry is just a word," I said. "But I am. Sorry, I mean."

Brian made sort of a 'hmmm' sound.

"I'm ashamed about it, Bri," I said, and then I started to cry. Quiet crying. Not heaving sobs.

I could hear him sigh heavily. "Well. That's a start, I guess."

"Yes, sir," I said, in misery.

Brian doesn't like to be called sir, so us younger kids have never done it. Even when he was thundering and angry at one of us.

And now he said, "What's with the sir?" sounding irritated.

I thought for a moment, choosing my words.

"Because," I said. "You deserve it."

There was a silence again, and when he spoke, I could tell that I'd surprised him a little.

"Alright," he said. "Well, there was a time or two during this whole mess, that I wasn't listenin' so good when you tried to talk to me."

It was hard to swallow for a moment. He was taking some of this blame onto himself? Wow.

Then, "You headin' to bed soon?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah."

"Okay. We'll talk again later, alright?"

"Alright." And by now, I was crying louder, hiccupping. I knew he could hear me, too. I wished he would keep talking to me. I wanted to

tell him that I loved him, that I would do everything I could to make all this right, but I didn't say any of that. I was overcome

with a shyness.

"'Night." he said.

"Goodnight, Bri," I said, still crying, and then when we'd both hung up, I burst into full out tears and flung myself onto

the couch.

7

I cried so long that I had a headache. I went to look thru the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, finding a bottle of Tylenol and

taking two of them. I did my shot, and then I went to Daniel's room, curling up on the bed, feeling miserable.

I covered up with the heaviest blanket that I could find in the hall closet, feeling as though I couldn't get warm.

I tried to sleep, but couldn't. Between the pounding of the relentless headache, and my tormented thoughts, there was

no rest.

I was still awake, and still crying off and on, when I heard the front door opening and then closing, and Daniel's voice mixed

with Red's.

After a few minutes, I saw Red pass by on his way to his own room, and then I heard footsteps in the hallway, and the

bathroom door opening and closing, and the sound of the shower. I waited until I heard the bathroom door open again, and

then I said, quietly, "Daniel?"

Daniel appeared in the open doorway, the hallway light behind him, rubbing his wet hair with a towel.

"What're you doin' awake?" he asked, sounding surprised.

"Couldn't sleep," I said. "How was the show tonight?"

Daniel came into the room a little further. "It was good. Big crowd."

"That's good."

He came the rest of the way to the side of the bed.

"Why can't you sleep?" he asked.

"Headache," I said.

"Do you need a snack?" he asked.

"It's not that. It's from cryin'," I admitted.

"Oh." He sat down on the edge of the bed. "It didn't go so well with Brian, huh?"

"It wasn't him," I said. "Not really. He was actually pretty nice."

"That's good."

"It's just-" I hesitated. "There's so much I want to say to them all, and yet, there's not really any right words. Does that make

sense?"

"It makes perfect sense," he said.

He reached up and touched my forehead, as if checking for fever.

"Crying doesn't cause a fever, Daniel," I said, lightly.

"Smartass," he said. "Did you take some Tylenol?"

"Yes."

"Alright. Well, no more cryin' tonight, then. You can live to cry again tomorrow," he said, misquoting an old Western movie.

"Okay," I said, as he tucked the blanket up tighter around me.

He said goodnight and went out, closing the door behind him. I laid there, though, in the darkness, and sleep still didn't come

for a really long time.

7


	71. Abyss

After not falling asleep until the early morning hours, I was draggy this next morning. When Daniel came to tap on my door,

to tell me it was time for breakfast, I was awake, but still lying there, on top of the covers.

"Awake?" he called, as he knocked.

"Yeah," I said, and he opened the door.

"Breakfast is ready."

"Okay," I said, and tried to rally myself up.

"Not enough sleep, huh?" he asked.

"Uh uh."

"You can sleep awhile longer if you want."

"I'll drink some coffee, and that'll help," I told him.

I pulled on my clothes, fresh from the duffle bag, where they were still stuffed after our trip to the laundromat the day before. I ambled out to the

kitchen in my bare feet, going straight to the coffee pot to pour myself a cup.

I ate my eggs and sausage, and drank the coffee, keeping quiet as Daniel and Red talked across the table to one another.

"You got to see any sights yet?" Red asked me.

"Daniel showed me the Ryman Auditorium."

"Is that all? Girl, you got to get busy seein' some of the touristy stuff 'round here," Red said.

I didn't say anything, or look towards Daniel, because I knew he was thinking that this wasn't a vacation, or a pleasure trip for me. He'd be

thinking that I shouldn't be rewarded for running off.

Shortly after that, Red got around to leave, telling Daniel he would meet him at rehearsal later, and tugging at my hair as he said

goodbye.

I finished my eggs, and then got up to refill my coffee cup, bringing the pot over to top off Daniel's cup as well.

"No, thanks," he said. "Two cups are enough for me."

I sat back down with my full cup, and, without thinking, I said, "Two cups is nothing. Adam has at least five every morning-"

I let my voice trail off.

Daniel looked at me, his expression kind. "Thinkin' about him, huh?"

I shrugged. "I guess so."

"I'll bet he'd sure like it if the phone rang and he heard you on the other end," Daniel ventured.

I considered that, and then shrugged again, picking up a piece of egg that had fallen off my plate onto the table.

"Maybe," I acknowledged.

"Do you feel better after talkin' to Brian last night?" he asked.

"I guess. A little."

Daniel moved his plate to the center of the table, so that there was room for him to rest his arms in front of him.

When he was quiet, I added, "I almost wished that Brian would have kept talking for awhile. It was hard to hear him say goodbye."

Daniel was just watching me, his expression serious. Pensive.

"I have something to tell you," I said, and his eyebrows rose a little.

"Okay."

"You know how at the laundromat I told you about that hippie guy at the train station?"

"Uh huh," he said, his voice questioning. I could tell he thought there was something more to the hippie man story.

"You asked if there was anything else I should tell you about."

"Right," he said.

"There was another man. He was on the bus. He talked to me, and then the last night he sat with me. Even though I didn't want him to."

Daniel's jaw tightened. "Did he try anything with you? Hurt you?"

"No. He just kept talking and talking, and finally I told him I wanted to go to stretch out and go to sleep. So he moved back to his own seat."

Daniel put his face in his hands, resting his elbows on the table, and I heard him sigh heavily.

"Harlie," he sighed, and then uncovered his face, leaning back in the chair and looking at me.

I kept quiet, meeting his eye.

"Did you see warning signs? Feel creeped out?" he asked me.

"Yeah," I admitted. "I told him that my dad was a Marine, and was gonna be waiting for me at the next stop."

"Well, that's original." He sighed again.

After a couple of silent moments, he asked, "How come you decided to tell me this now?"

I considered my answer, biting at my lip a little. "I don't want to feel like a liar anymore."

Daniel gave me a long look. "I'm glad you told me. Even though it's tough for me to hear."

I nodded, relieved that he was taking it this way.

"I mean, I want to rant and rave at you, and tell you how lucky you are that you didn't get into a situation that was

more than you could manage." He rubbed a hand down his face. "But I've already done that. Right?"

"Right," I said.

After a couple of moments, he gave his hands a clap. "Okay. Anything else?"

"Nope," I said, smiling at him a little.

"You wanted to go to the library, right?" he asked me.

"I'd like to."

"Okay. Give me a few minutes and we'll head out."

"I'll do the dishes real quick," I said, getting up and starting to stack the dishes.

"Do 'em later," he told me, and I said okay, and just cleared the table, leaving the dishes on the counter for later.

While Daniel went to the bathroom to shave, I sat down at the piano, scooting the bench closer. I began playing thru

the sheet music that I'd been practicing the night before. Halting at first, and then smoothly.

When Daniel came back out, carrying his boots, I stopped playing to look at him.

"Don't stop," he said, sitting down on the couch to pull on his boots. "Keep on and finish. I wanna hear it."

So I kept playing, finishing the piece, and then I took my hands from the keys, twisting to look at him. He had an

intent look on his face, and had been leaning back, listening.

"That was real good," he told me. "It's been a long time since I heard you play the piano."

"You've heard me," I reminded him. "The last time you were home, remember? We were horsing around and doing duets-"

"That was goofy stuff," he said. "Horsing around, like you said. I meant it's been a long time since I heard you really play. Like you did just

now. Like you mean it."

"I was just trying to keep myself busy while you're at work," I said, with a light shrug.

"Well, you should keep practicing. Play some every day," Daniel said.

"I'll try to."

"I wanted to tell you I really appreciate all the cleanin' up you've done while you've been here," he said. "It's really nice

not havin' to argue with Red over who's gonna clean the darn kitchen."

"It's okay. I don't mind," I said.

We sat there, looking at each other sort of seriously for a couple of moments, and I thought that it looked as though Daniel

had something that he wanted to say to me.

But all he did say was, "Let's hit the library."

7

When we were driving into the library parking lot, I was truly amazed. "It's huge! I've never seen anything like it!"

Daniel laughed a little. "Careful, squirt. Your small-town roots are showin'."

"Country bumpkin, that's me," I said, not at all insulted.

As we were walking into the immense building, I said, "Since I'm from out of town, are they going to let me even check out any books?"

"You can check out under my name." He dug into his back pocket, and pulled out his wallet, and then took out a library card, and handed it to me.

"You have a library card?" I asked, shocked.

"I don't think I like the way you say that," Daniel grumbled, giving me a poke in the back as he ushered me inside.

"I didn't mean it that way. It's just-you don't even like to read," I said, lowering my voice to a near-whisper.

"I do read occasionally," he said, crossing his eyes at me in a goofy way.

The library was amazing. I was as excited about the library as some other girls might be on a trip to the mall. I began to wander around, taking my time, until

I found two books that caught my eye. I had to look around for Daniel, the library was that large. I found him in the magazines, looking at some

music magazine. No surprise, there.

"Ready to go?" he asked me, looking up from his reading.

"If you are."

"Yeah. Come on."

When we went back outside, the sun had disappeared, and it was chilly again. I sighed and pulled the over-sized jacket of Daniel's tighter around

myself.

"When does it get warm here?" I complained.

"In the summer. When it's supposed to. You're just spoiled by all that California sunshine year round," Daniel chided me.

For a moment, I was struck with a sudden sense of homesickness so strong that it was hard to swallow.

Daniel gave me a sympathetic look.

Then he said, "I've got a surprise for you, before we go out to lunch."

"We're going out to lunch?" I asked, perking up.

"I thought I'd take you to The Melting Pot. It's a real nice restaurant."

"Yea!" Then I said, "Is that my surprise?"

"No. We're gonna head to your surprise right now."

Daniel took me to the Country Music Hall of Fame. We spent nearly three hours there looking around. He'd been there before, but he told

me that he could return many times and still see something new. After that we did go to the Melting Pot restaurant, and Daniel was right about it

being a nice place to eat. We both had steaks, with salads and then fruit dipped in a chocolate fondue sauce.

I'd seen the prices on the menu, and was a little bowled over at how high everything was. When it came time to pay the check, though, Daniel

didn't say anything. He just laid the cash on the counter, and then took two mints from the bowl there, and offered me one of them.

"What did you think?" he asked me.

"I loved it. It was really good. But, Daniel, it was so expensive!"

"Yeah. That's why this is only my second time eating there," he said, with a grin.

We were crossing the street to get to where Daniel had parked, and the traffic was heavy, zooming past us at an alarming rate.

Daniel reached down and took my hand to cross the street.

I thought about making a joke about how I must be six again, and how he used to make me hold his hand when he'd take me into school

sometimes. But then, I decided not to. I didn't mind him taking my hand like that, or making sure I got across that crazy busy street safely.

It just felt so good to be with him, and have him not be mad at me any longer.

Once in the truck, and seat belted in, Daniel said, "I thought about going to the mall and getting you some clothes, but I need to get back to

head to rehearsal."

"That's okay," I said.

"You wanna go to rehearsal? We'll head over to the club now."

"Sure. Yes."

As he pulled out into the frenzied driving on the main highway, I said, "You don't have to buy me any clothes."

"I was just thinkin' of a couple pairs of jeans. Maybe some socks," he told me.

For a moment I felt a niggling sense of unease, and worry. "Oh."

I hesitated, and then dove into the abyss. "Am I going to be here long enough to need more clothes?"

Daniel gave me a sideways glance.

"Not what you want, huh?" he asked.

"It's not that," I said hurriedly. "I love being here with you. Well," I added honestly, "At least I do now that you're not

mad at me any longer."

"Humph," Daniel said.

"It's just-I have school next week," I said, in explanation.

"I didn't mean that you were gonna be here for any great length of time," Daniel said. "I just thought you should have some more jeans

and stuff, in case we don't make it back to the laundromat."

"Oh." I felt a range of emotions. Gladness that Adam and Brian hadn't 'banned' me from returning home, or 'given me over' to Daniel, because

they didn't want to deal with me anymore. I mean, I didn't really think that they would do something like that.

But I was still feeling worried, and the weirdest scenarios kept popping into my head.

"I don't mind gettin' you something that you need," he went on.

"I know. I appreciate it," I said. "I really liked the Hall of Fame," I added. "Thanks a lot for taking me."

"You're welcome."

I decided to plunge on. "I figured you wouldn't want to take me to see anything here, or let me do anything special."

He gave me another measuring side glance. "You figured that, huh?"

"Well, I mean, with the way I came and all. It's not like it was a planned vacation with Crane, or anything."

"No. It for sure wasn't that," he said dryly, in agreement. He looked thoughtful for a moment, and then said, "The way

I see it is this. You did the wrong thing. Probably one of the biggest mistakes you've ever made. You got punished for it. Hopefully, you

learned from it." He raised an eyebrow at me. "You did, right?"

"Yes," I said quietly.

"Well, then, you understand how it made people feel, and you won't do anything like it again. So, I figure that it's over and done. Time

to move past it," he said.

I looked out towards the front windshield, easy tears filling my eyes, feeling humbled by his words. I managed a nod, and a sort of

croaky, "Thanks."

Daniel reached over and ran his hand down the back of my head, before he put it back onto the steering wheel.

"How are you feelin' about everything?" he asked.

I tried to gather all my thoughts. "I'm scared about facing everybody. And I don't know how to make it right, really." I looked over at him. "I

feel real bad about Evan. He-" I broke off, and shook my head a little, facing forward again.

"Evan will come around," Daniel said quietly. "It may take a while, a long time even, but he will."

"I hope," I said, and then added, "And I'm still worried about the whole custody thing."

"Well, Adam thinks it may be gettin' close to being settled," Daniel said, and I twisted to face him.

"He said that?" I asked.

"Something like that."

"Wow. Why didn't you tell me?" I asked.

"He just told me this mornin' when I talked to him. And it's not that he knows anything for certain. I think it's more what he feels."

"Oh." I thought a moment. "I hope his intuition is right."

We were both quiet for a few minutes, and then he said, "Do you wanna go back with us tonight while we do the show?"

"Yeah, I'd like that!"

"Okay. One condition, though. Well, actually two."

"What're the conditions?" I asked.

"I want you to stay at the front table, just like you do at rehearsal. And I don't want you dance with anybody. There's a rough crowd

there sometimes."

"Maybe nobody will ask me to dance," I said, giving him a small smile.

"They will," he said, sounding certain. "And you say, 'no, thank you.' Alright?"

"Yes. Alright. So that's the two conditions."

"That's one."

"Sit at the front table," I said, holding up one finger to count. "And don't dance with anybody," I added, holding up a second finger. "That's two."

"That's all part of condition one, brat," he said, with affection.

"Okay. So what's the second one?" I asked.

"When we get home from rehearsal, after we eat supper, and before we leave again, I want you to call home."

I looked at him, and bit at my lip. "To talk to who?" I asked.

"By the way you say that, I guess you're not ready to talk to Adam. Is that it?" he asked.

I nodded my head a little.

"Well, okay. Small steps. How about-Crane?" he suggested.

I considered that. "Okay," I agreed.

"Crane, then," Daniel said, and then held out his right arm with a flourish. "With a side order of Hannah."

I stared at him, my reluctance evident, I knew. I bit my lip so hard that it hurt, and pressed my lips together.

"What are you thinkin'?" he asked me. "Hannah's at the top of the no-talk list, too?"

"I'm not going to talk back to you, Daniel. If you want me to do the call, then I will."

Daniel sighed a little. "Harlie, the more conversations you have now, the smoother that going home will be for you. For everybody."

"I know you're right," I said.

"Never get tired of hearing that," he said lightly, and gave me a wink as he pulled into the parking lot of the Palamino Club.

7


	72. Skater's Waltz

Once we were back at the little house after rehearsal, Red began to fry up some potatoes and sausage, throwing in hot peppers. I stood beside him,

watching.

"That's what Brian does when he's doing the cooking," I said.

"When are you goin' to make some of those lemon bars you were talking about?" Red asked me.

"I can do it tomorrow," I offered. "If Daniel bought all the ingredients. Did you, Daniel?" I asked him.

"If you put it on the list, then I got it," Daniel said, coming over to the stove, and snitching a piece of sausage from the skillet.

"I'll make them in the morning," I promised Red.

"Good deal," he said, and grinned at me.

When it came time to eat, though, I couldn't muster up much of an appetite. My mind was running possible conversations with Crane thru

my head. And Hannah. My mind didn't even want to go there.

"My cooking's not that bad, is it?" Red asked me.

"No. It's good," I told him, and took another bite of potatoes. "It's just, I'm thinking about what to say to Crane."

"Crane's a good man. He's not gonna snarl at you, is he?" Red asked.

I shot a look at Daniel. "I don't think he will. It's just-with Crane, if he's disappointed, that's worse than having him be angry."

Red looked sympathetic, and stood up, to begin clearing the table.

Daniel got up, too, helping stack the dishes. I was still sitting there, moving my potatoes from side to side on my plate. Daniel paused

beside my chair. "Are you finished, or do you want to keep pushing those around for awhile?"

He was teasing, I knew, but I didn't feel like smiling right then.

"I'm done," I said.

Daniel took my plate and set it with the others on the counter. While I still sat there, he gave my shoulder a light poke.

"Come on," he told me, and headed towards the living room.

I sighed and got up, following him.

"Will you dial and get Crane on the phone first?" I asked him. I didn't want to take the chance on anybody else answering.

"Yeah, I will."

I sat down on the edge of the couch nearest to the phone, and watched while Daniel dialed, and then listened while he

said, "Hey," to whoever answered.

"She's good," he said then, and I wondered who was asking about me.

I got my answer when he turned to me, and said, "Clare says hello."

"Tell her hello back," I said, feeling my stomach begin to do somersaults.

"Harlie says hello to you." There was a pause, and then, "I'll tell her," Daniel said. "Hey, can you get Crane for me, please?"

While he waited for Clare to go fetch Crane, Daniel told me, "Clare says she misses you."

There was nothing to say to that. I felt tears rising to the surface, and I tried shoving them back.

Then Daniel's voice brightened, when he said, "Hey, bro."

There was conversation on the other end, while Daniel listened, and then he said, "Okay. Let me check."

I wondered what he was talking about, but at that point I couldn't rally much curiousity.

Then after a little more talking between Daniel and Crane, Daniel said, "Harlie's sitting here. You wanna talk to her?"

Then he held out the phone receiver to me. I stood up, and went to take it from his hand.

Daniel gave me a look somewhere between sympathy and stern, and went back to the kitchen.

I put the receiver to my ear, and after a moment of silence, I realized that I would have to speak first, since Crane didn't know

that I was on the line.

"Hello, Crane," I said.

"Hello, yourself," he answered.

"How're you?" I asked, lamely.

"I'm doing alright. How are you?"

"Alright," I said, and then subsided into silence. I didn't know what to say.

"I'm sure glad to talk to you," he said.

I wanted to be able to tell him the same, but I wasn't so sure that I was glad. But I wasn't exactly unglad, either.

I hesitated a moment. Then I took the plunge. "I'm sorry for what I did, Crane."

I heard him sigh. "I know you are."

That he should so readily believe that, well, that made me choke up.

"You believe me?" I asked, feeling emotional.

"I believe you. I can tell you are, by the tone of your voice. And Daniel's told me that you've been doing some reflecting, and thinking."

"I have," I said.

"Well, then, there's no way to go but onward."

First Daniel, then Brian, and now Crane. All accepting of my apologies, and my regret. Well, even Ford and Guthrie, when I'd talked to them.

Five down. Two to go. The toughest two. Adam and Evan. I wasn't at all certain about either one of them.

"How is everybody at home?" I asked, nervously.

"Doing alright. Busy as always."

"The baby's good?" I asked.

"Fine as can be. Smiling all the time."

"That's good." I hesitated. "How's Adam?"

There was a slight pause on Crane's end. "Adam's alright. He's hurting."

My eyes filled with tears, and I couldn't talk for a moment or two.

"Harlie? You still there?" he asked.

"Yes," I managed, and I knew that Crane could tell that I was gearing up to cry.

"You need to talk to him," Crane said, into the small silence.

"I know."

"He's not in the house right now. I can tell him you'll call later."

Wait. This was going too fast. "Why hasn't he called me?" I asked, sort of plaintively, and I knew I sounded like a baby. "Is it because he's

too upset with me?" Actually, I'd sort of wondered all along why Adam hadn't been on the telephone the very first moment that he'd found out

where I was, hollering thru the phone line at me.

"I think it's more along the lines of giving you your space. Letting you be with Daniel. And, too, he needed time. You shook up the

whole house, Harlie. I think he needed to think about what he wanted to say to you."

"Meaning he was so mad that he didn't want to talk to me," I said, glumly.

"That's not what I said," Crane corrected. "What I meant was exactly what I just said to you. Don't put your own pity spin on it."

His voice was firm. Almost stern.

I gathered myself together. "Okay. I get it."

There was a couple of moments of silence again.

"Do you want me to tell him you'll call tonight?" he asked.

"I was supposed to go with Daniel-" I began, and then I stopped. "Yeah. You can tell him I'll call."

"What time?"

"I guess when he comes in for supper. So about five-thirty there? It'd be seven-thirty here."

"Alright. I'll tell him," Crane promised.

"Okay," I said, and then fell silent.

"I hear you've been practicing a lot of piano," Crane said.

"Yeah. A little every day."

"That's good."

I braved a question. "Is Adam going to even want to talk to me, though?"

"Harlie."

"Well, I mean-"

"He's going to want to," Crane said firmly.

"Okay."

"Alright. I better get back out to work," Crane said.

"Okay," I echoed.

"Don't make Daniel go gray-headed, alright?" he said. "Bye."

"Bye."

He'd hung up before I remembered that I was supposed to have talked to Hannah, too.

7

I stood there for a minute, pulling myself together a little, and then I went to the kitchen, where Daniel and Red were cleaning up.

"Need help?" I asked them.

"We're done, little darlin'," Red told me. "I'm gonna grab a shower and get dressed."

When he'd gone, Daniel turned from where he was wiping down the kitchen counter with a dishcloth.

"How'd it go?" he asked me.

"Good." Then, before he could ask me about it, I said, "I didn't talk to Hannah. I didn't tell Crane, and he hung up before I remembered."

"Okay. Maybe later, huh?"

"Uh huh," I said, and then said, "I don't think I'll go with you tonight, to the show."

"How come? You have a headache?" he asked, looking concerned.

"No. I'm gonna call home again later. To talk to Adam."

I'd surprised him with those last four words, I could tell.

"Yeah?" he asked, looking pleased.

"Yeah."

Daniel put the dishcloth down, and came over to where I stood in the doorway. He put his hand on the back of my head, and pulled

me closer so he could kiss the top of my head. When he leaned back up, his eyes were full of emotion.

"That's my girl," he said.

7

I was quiet, and subdued, when Daniel and Red were getting around to leave for the club. I was sitting at the piano, playing

something from memory.

"What's that piece?" Daniel said, coming down the hall from the bathroom, and carrying his boots.

"Um, I think Skater's Waltz."

"It's good. I like it," he said.

"Thanks," I said, twisting on the piano bench to face him.

Daniel pulled on his boots, and then said, "Lock up."

"I will," I promised.

He came over to where I sat, and tugged me to my feet, looping his arms over my shoulders.

"I'm proud of you," he said.

"Even though I'm a big chicken?" I asked, only half-joking.

"Even though. You're gonna feel a hundred percent better after it's done."

I wasn't at all sure that was true, but I knew Daniel expected me to be positive, so I nodded. "Okay."

"I speak from experience," he said. "There were a couple of times, well, more than a couple, that I put off talkin' to Adam

about something that I should have carried to him right away. It always got a lot worse the longer I waited."

I nodded again in agreement.

After Daniel had gone, I slid the lock into place on the door, and went to take a hot shower. I still had over an hour before I was supposed to

call.

I mixed up the lemon bars, and then sat down for a few minutes at the piano again, trying another piece of sheet music. This one was

more difficult, and I stumbled over the notes several times.

When it was near to seven-fifteen, I closed the piano lid, and went to sit beside the telephone. I began to picture in my mind what

would be happening at this moment at home. Hannah, and maybe Clare, too, would be getting supper on the table, and one of the guys

would more than likely be setting the table. Somebody else would be holding Isaac, unless he was napping. They would all be inside

from doing the chores, and washing up at the sink. They would be talking about what work needed to be done the next day, and what minor

or major things that needed to be repaired. Guthrie would be snitching something from the food as soon as it was set down. Gus and Clarence

and the other two dogs would be sitting right outside the back door, hoping that somebody would throw something out to them.

Everybody would be talking all at the same time, and Brian and Clare would be giving each other a kiss before they sat down to eat.

My heart tightened in pain. True physical pain. It was nearly overwhelming. I got up and went to the bathroom, wetting a washcloth with

cold water, and patting my face with it.

When I went back to the living room, I sat down in the same chair again, looking at the clock. Seven thirty-five. I counted backwards from fifty, telling myself that when

I reached zero I would dial the number.

I picked up the receiver, and dialed the number slowly. It rang once. Twice. And then it was picked up. He must have been sitting

really near to the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Adam," I said, quietly.

I thought I heard him sigh. "Hi," and his voice was quiet, too.

"Did Crane tell you I was going to call?" I asked, and immediately realized it was an idiotic question. Of course Crane had told him.

"He told me." There was a moment's hesitation, and then he said, "How're you feeling? Any problems with your blood sugar?"

The first thing he had to say to me, and it was about me, and how I was feeling, and if I was alright. I felt so ashamed suddenly of what

I'd done, that I didn't think I could answer.

I squeezed my eyes shut, determined not to cry. At least not this early in the conversation. Which of course I didn't succeed at.

"No problems with it," I managed. "A couple of headaches. That's all."

"That's good."

"I'm sorry for hurting you!" I burst out, and began to cry.

For a couple of minutes at least, I cried, and he didn't say anything at first.

"Settle down," he said, finally.

"I thought about myself," I managed, "I didn't think about how it would hurt you-"

"What did you think I'd say?" he asked, sounding irritated.

"I don't know," I wailed. "I thought you'd be mad, but that maybe talking to Daniel would help me. I didn't even think about how I'd get home, or any

of that!"

In between the crying, and the pauses, Adam said, again, "Settle down."

"It's just hard to talk to you-when you're so far away," I said, swiping at my face.

"It's not easy for me, either," Adam said. "Go blow your nose."

It was such an 'Adam' thing to say, so caringly 'paternal', that I began to cry even harder.

"Why don't you hang up, pull it together a little, and then call me back?" he suggested.

My heart plummeted. Now that I had him on the phone, and was actually having a conversation, or the semblance of a conversation, with him, I

didn't want to let him go.

"No, Adam, please! I'll stop crying! Please don't hang up!" I pleaded.

I heard him sigh. "I'm not gonna hang up."

I concentrated on getting myself under control. When I'd tapered off with the crying, I said, "I'm going to get a Kleenex. You'll wait, right?"

"Yes, Harlie, I'll wait."

I ran to get the Kleenex box from the coffee table. It was empty. I went to the bathroom, searching in the cabinet for more boxes. Not finding any, I

wound up some toilet tissue and began to mop at my face with it, and then blew my nose.

I went back to pick up the phone again, a little more in control.

"I'm back," I said, quietly.

"Alright. I'm gonna say a couple of things. So listen to me, alright?" he said.

"Yes."

"You did the wrong thing. Running away isn't the way to solve anything. You could have gotten hurt, it was a terrible risk to take."

"Yes," I mumbled.

He went on as though I hadn't said anything. "It hit me like a ton of bricks. That you were so desparate that you even thought about

doing something like that."

He paused, and then asked, "You were feelin' desparate, is that the right way to say it?"

"Yeah," I said honestly.

"Well, that tears me up. It does. I can't even describe how it makes me feel."

"That's what I feel the worst about! Making you feel like that inside!" I said.

"I'd ask you why you didn't come to me, or to Brian, or anybody, but from what I understand, you tried talkin' to just about

every one of us at one time or another, about how you were feelin'. Is that right?"

"Yeah. But it wasn't you all's fault," I defended.

"It wasn't our fault you took off, no. That was your decision, and it wasn't a good one. But brushing you off when you tried to talk to us,

to me, just telling you not to worry, well that part was my fault."

At that moment, I realized that Adam defined what a real man was. Strong. Decisive. With the desire to protect, and defend. But also with the ability to

own up to his own shortcomings.

"Guthrie says you told him you were at the end of your rope, that you couldn't take much more," he said.

"Yeah. But Guthrie didn't know what to say-" I defended.

"No. He didn't."

"What's going to happen with the custody thing?" I asked.

"I'm not sure. I talk to John almost every day."

"You do?"

"Yeah. I do," he said.

"I don't want to go live with her, Adam," I burst out.

"I know you don't."

"I wish I'd told you from the beginning about Karissa. Then all of this wouldn't have happened!"

"Knowing her, I don't know how things would have gone, she's so unpredictable," he said. "But you should have told me from the

beginning, yeah."

"A leopard can't change their spots," I said quietly.

"What?" he asked.

"That's what Brian says. A leopard can't change their spots," I explained.

"Hmm. Well, maybe so."

"What can I do, Adam?" I asked, feeling tears prick at my eyes again.

He didn't have to ask what I meant. He knew.

"You can come home, and work hard to build up trust again. You can show everybody that you learned something from

all of this. You can be truthful, and the next time you come to me, and it doesn't seem as though I'm really listening, you can

call me out on it."

I had to smile a little at that. "Okay."

"Okay," he echoed.

There was a small silence. But it wasn't horrible.

"Daniel was really mad at me when I got here," I ventured.

"I know he was."

"I've never seen him like that before."

"Well, you put him in a rough spot," Adam said. "Have you thought about that?"

"No," I admitted. "I guess I really haven't."

"Daniel would just as rather have cut off his hand as have to spank you like that," Adam said. "He did what was right, not what was

easy."

I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, willing back the tears.

When I didn't answer, Adam said, "Harlie? Did you hear me?"

"Yes," I said, almost in a whisper.

"Alright." There was a momentary pause, and then he said, "Getting ready for bed?"

"Yeah. It's been a long day. I'll probably do my shot and go to bed to read awhile. Daniel took me to the library today."

"Nice library?" he asked, in conversation.

"Yes. Really big," I hesitated and then asked, "Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah. You can."

"What's your punishment for me when I get home?" I asked it in a rush, feeling anxious.

"I'm still thinking about that. I'd say you can count on being grounded indefinitely for one thing."

"Oh," I said, in a small voice.

"We're gonna have a lot of talking to do once you're home," he said. "I've got a few things I want to say to you that I'm not

going to say over the telephone."

"Okay," I said, feeling my stomach jump with nerves again.

"Is Guthrie okay? And Isaac?" I asked, into the next quiet spot in the conversation.

"Baby's good. Guthrie's missin' you."

"I miss him, too," I said, with feeling. I wanted to ask about Evan, and if he'd said anything about me, or voiced his disgust at the situation, but

I couldn't work up enough nerve. I didn't really want to hear the answer, I guess.

I heard Adam turn from the phone to talk to somebody in the room, and then he spoke again into the phone.

"I'm gonna go now. We've got to eat and get back out to doctor a calf."

"What's wrong with the calf?" I asked.

"The mama's not taking to feeding him. We've been trying to bottle feed, and he's just not too interested."

"Oh. I hope he starts eating," I said.

"He'll make it," Adam said, with certainty.

"I hope so." Then, in a rush I asked, "When am I gonna come home?"

"I think we're shooting for Sunday."

"Are you coming?" I asked him.

"If Daniel can work it out with his job, he's gonna bring you, and stay for a few days."

I felt better than I had in days right then. "Okay." I was reluctant to hang up from him.

"I love you, Adam," I said, so softly that I wasn't sure he would hear me.

But he did.

"I love you. Never-ending. Got it?"

"Yes," I said, tears filling my eyes again.

"Night."

"Goodnight," I echoed, and the phone clicked as he hung up.

7


	73. Getting real

After that, I was so wired up that I couldn't fall asleep. I tried reading one of my books from the library, but even that didn't help me to get

sleepy. I went to warm up some milk in the kitchen, and that's where I was when Daniel and Red got home.

Both of them came into the kitchen, and when Daniel asked why I was still up, I shrugged, and said, "Going to try some warm milk."

Red began to root thru the refrigerator, and then saw the lemon bars.

"My darlin'," he said, and bit into one. "Fit for a king," he proclaimed, and scooped another one out of the pan. He gave me an

affectionate pat on his way past. "This old man is beat," he said. "I'll see you both in the morning."

"Night, Red," I said,

"Night," Daniel told him.

Daniel was helping himself to the lemon bars, too. "You did good," he said.

"Thanks." I poured some of the steaming milk from the pan into a cup.

"Did you talk with Adam?" he asked.

I nodded.

"And?" he prompted me.

"And, I'm glad I called," I said, feeling emotional again. "Adam was-well, he was Adam. Mad, but great, too. You know?"

"Yeah. I think I understand," Daniel said.

"Do you want some of the milk?" I offered. "I made too much."

"Sure."

I reached into the cabinet, and pulled down another cup, and poured the remaining milk into it, and then held it out to Daniel.

"You're a good influence on me, you know that?" Daniel said.

I looked at him, quizzically. "How's that?" I asked.

"I usually come home from a show, and have a beer or two to relax, but look at me now. Tonight, I'm drinkin' warm milk."

I gave him a small smile. "Adam says Sunday. And you're taking me? Or can you get time off on such short notice?"

"I think it's gonna work out. I figure we'll leave Saturday morning, early. Should put us home Sunday about noon, or a little after, maybe."

"What about Red? And the other guys? Will they lose pay because you won't be here to sing?" I asked.

"There's a couple of guys that can fill in for me for a bit."

"Okay," I said. "That makes me feel better. I'd feel bad for Red if he lost money because you had to take me home."

Daniel gave me an approving look. "The guys will be okay."

"You're losing money though, right? By taking me home?"

"It's time I was home for a visit, anyhow," he said, as he walked over to turn off the kitchen light switch.

"I agree," I said, and in the half-darkness he gave me a gentle push.

"How long are you going to be able to stay?" I asked him.

"I think I'll sort of play that by ear," he said.

In the living room, he began stacking up his pillows and unfolding blankets to make up his bed on the couch.

"You want to sleep in your own bed tonight?" I offered. "I can take the couch."

"Naw, it's okay. I'm gonna grab a shower. You better try to get some sleep."

"Okay," I said, and told him goodnight, carrying my cup of hot milk as I went down the hallway to his room.

7

I slept late the next morning. Daniel didn't come to wake me up for breakfast, so it was nearly nine when I woke up. I stretched, and

then got into my clothes that I'd worn the day before. That way, I figured that I would use my second clean outfit for the trip home tomorrow.

When I went out of the room and down the hallway, I found Daniel lying on the couch in the living room, reading a newspaper.

"Morning," I said, lifting his feet so I could sit down on the end of the couch, and then putting his sock feet back in my lap.

"Morning," he said, lowering his paper to look at me. "Did you get some sleep?"

"Yeah. How about you?" I asked.

"Not bad. There's eggs on the stove."

"I'm not so hungry right now. I'll eat in a little while."

"No, you don't. No blood sugar crashes on my watch. Go get your breakfast," he ordered.

"Okay, okay," I said, and shoved his feet off of my lap. "Mr. Bossy Pants," I accused, as I stood up.

"Hey," he protested, jokingly putting up his fists in a 'let's fight' stance. "No name-calling now. You'll hurt my feelin's."

I mock punched back at him, joking in return, and went to the kitchen, putting some eggs and toast with jelly on a plate. I poured a glass

of apple juice, and went back to the living room. By now, Daniel was sitting up, scratching something onto a pad of paper.

I sat down beside him, and began eating.

As I ate, I watched him scribble on the paper, pause, and then write again.

"Daniel?"

"What?" he asked, without looking up.

"I've been thinking-" I began.

"Uh huh," he said, vaguely, only half-paying attention.

"Would you talk to Evan for me?"

Daniel paused, pen in mid-air, to look at me. "Come again?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I just wondered if you would talk to him," I said, and finished chewing the bite of eggs in my mouth.

"Smooth things over, you mean?" Daniel asked. "Sort of pave the way?"

"Well, yeah," I said. "Sort of like that."

"Maybe tell him to give you a break? Not be a hard ass?" Daniel went on.

I shrugged. "Maybe so," I said, trying out a small smile on him.

"No, Harlie, I won't."

"How come?" I asked, disappointed.

"Because it's your responsibility," he said, looking serious. Dead serious.

"Okay," I said. I could tell it was a closed conversation. I sighed a little, and took another bite of my toast.

I looked up from taking a drink of juice to find him surveying me with that same serious expression.

"What?" I asked.

"I thought we had an understanding," he said.

I felt my face turn warm in embarrassment, at the memory of that 'understanding'. I set my glass down on the table again. "We do."

"When we talked, I told you that you had to be willing to accept responsibility for your part in all this, and figure out a way

to repair things with everybody," Daniel went on.

"I know. I understand," I said, laying my fork down on the plate. I could tell that I'd made a mistake, a big one, by asking him to intervene

with Evan.

Daniel kept watching me, looking a little disapproving.

I took my plate in one hand, and picked up my glass in the other one, and stood up, going to the kitchen. I began to run hot water in the

sink to do the dishes, finding that my heart was thumping extra hard, and I was really upset at how Daniel had talked to me. I hoped this didn't

mean that he was going to be all angry at me again.

I was washing the dishes, and rinsing them, when Daniel came from behind me, and wrapped his arms around my middle.

"I guess I'm the one bein' a hard ass," he said, close to my ear. "Huh, squirt?"

"It's okay," I said, quietly. "I shouldn't have asked you."

He stood that way for another moment or so, and then he kissed the back of my head, before he dropped his arms.

"I've got to go down to the club to get some stuff arranged with the guys," he said. "You want to go?"

"No, I'll stay here."

When he gave me a questioning look, I added, "I'll get everything cleaned up, and make some lunch. Will you be back for lunch?"

"I don't know. Probably not. How about we go out for supper tonight? Your last night in Nashville, and all?"

"Okay," I said.

As Daniel was headed out the door of the kitchen, I said, "Hey, Daniel."

When he turned back, I said, "Maybe we should invite Red to go out with us to supper?"

"Good idea. I'll ask him."

7

After Daniel left, I opened all the shades so the sun, which was surprisingly out for a change, could shine into the living room and

kitchen.

I swept, vacuumed, and dusted the living room, and then started on the kitchen. By the time I was done, the room smelled like

'lemony sunshine' as the label on the cleaning spray advertised. Strong enough to make me sneeze a couple of times.

After that I tackled the bathroom, spraying and cleaning. I made myself a solitary lunch of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and a glass

of milk, and ate it standing over the furnace vent in the living room. Just because the sun had made an appearance obviously hadn't

help raise the temperature much outside.

Every time I thought about home, I was overwhelmed with feelings. I could see the homey kitchen in my mind, and smell Hannah's

homemade cinnamon rolls. If I concentrated really hard, I could almost feel the grooves on the kitchen table, worn there by years of

heavy use. I could envision my brothers all trooping into the house, rowdy and hungry, taking off their work gloves, and hats, and

charging into the kitchen.

I laid on the couch, trying to read one of the library books that I'd gotten, but I couldn't seem to concentrate. Home kept creeping into my

thoughts. And my brothers. Every one of them had their turn in my tortured thoughts.

Daniel was one thing. We had worked out our issues, and we were on mostly normal ground with one another again. Guthrie and Ford were

alright. Guthrie might bluster at me a little, but he would accept it when I had talked things over with him. Ford had already told me what he

thought on the phone call that we'd had. He likely wouldn't say any more about it.

Crane had seemed alright on the phone. Calm. I would talk to him again, and he would probably follow thru with his 'move onward' outlook that

he had mentioned.

Four down.

Now it got a little more dicey. Brian had seemed angry, then calmer. I'd have some talking to do to him, for sure. He would likely try to

keep me on a tight rein for awhile, as far as what I was allowed to do and all. Adam, well I was really

scared about talking to him, even though we had talked over the phone. It had been so, so good to hear his voice. I gave up trying to read, and

stared at the ceiling, going over my conversation with Adam again. I was in for some trouble, I knew that for sure. But Adam had had some time

to think things over, and to get calm. And, I knew deep down that he was fair. He'd dish out my punishment, and say what he had to say to me,

and then-well, then I'd have to start working my behind off to have any of them trust me ever again.

Evan. My heart pricked at the thought of Evan. He was done with me. Daniel said that he'd come around, but I knew better. I'd heard it all

in his voice.

After that, I couldn't stop thinking about Evan and some of the fun we've had. He'd been really decent to me when I'd driven his truck

into the high water. He kept my secrets. Well, sometimes. And he was the one that had always let me drive, long before I was legal to do so.

And since he'd met Nancy, he'd invited me along with them lots of times. How many guys wanted their younger sisters along when they were

out on a date? What sort of a brother did that? A good one. That was the answer. A really, really good one that cared.

I'd worked myself up so much that by the time Daniel and Red got home, I was curled up on Daniel's bed, crying.

Daniel stood in the bedroom doorway. "What's wrong?" he asked me, sounding concerned.

"I've mucked everything up!" I wailed. "There's no way I can fix everything!"

Daniel came over and sat down on the edge of the bed, and rubbed my back.

"Hey, now," he said, soothingly.

"Evan hates me! And because I was so stupid, and thoughtless, I probably won't be trusted to get a job this summer or anything!"

"It's not gonna be easy, but you knew that already. What brought on this cryin' jag?" he asked.

I turned on my side, so I could look at him. "I-don't know. I guess it's just getting real. That I've got a bunch of stuff to fix. I'm willing to

do that, but Evan-" I let my voice trail off.

"Alright, listen to me," Daniel said, "Things are gonna work out. Is it going to be easy? Hell, no. But have some faith in our

family unit, squirt."

"I do," I said lamely.

"Now wash your face, and let's fasten on our feeding bags and go get some supper."

7

For supper that night, the three of us went to some little out-of-the way place. It was in a sort of basement building, which you had to get to

by going down some stairs that were so steep that they reminded me of our cellar at home. Daniel and Red had told me that

it was where a lot of songwriters and aspiring singers went to eat for cheap, and hang out with those who felt the same about music

as themselves.

Once inside, I saw that it was larger than it seemed, and the lighting wasn't all that great. But it had a comfortable feeling, and the crowd there

was friendly, greeting both Red and Daniel by name, and there was a lot of back-slapping and joking around. Daniel introduced me to so

many people that I lost track of most of their names.

We ate pork tenderloins that were so large they escaped over the edge of the buns they were served on. I ate half of mine, and gave the rest

to Daniel to finish. After that I sipped at my lemonade, and listened while the circle of people seated at our large table conversed with

one another about, what else? Music. The making of it. The playing of it. The selling of it. The love of it.

Above all that talking, Hank Williams played in the background, crooning out his old songs from a jukebox that looked as though

it had seen better days.

I had a good time, and, since I gathered that Daniel knew most of the people there really well, it was extra nice to see and be around

people that he saw often. It made me feel as though I knew a little more about his life here. I watched Daniel covertly, as he interacted with

the group. It struck me then that Daniel had changed. A little, anyway. I mean, he was still the same in lots of ways. He was still Daniel. But

he'd also gone past the scope of life in Murphys. He seemed older somehow. Obviously, he was older, since he'd been gone for months. But I meant

older as in the way that he talked, and expressed himself. I sighed a little. Not that it was a bad thing for him, but it still felt as though

he was slipping away from me a little. I didn't like change very much.

7


	74. Mr Mileage

Red dropped Daniel and I back off at the little house, as he headed out to the Palamino Club. He got out, too, and the three of us

stood beside his truck. "I'll say my goodbyes now," he said.

He gave Daniel a pat on the back, and told him to have a safe trip home to California.

"Call me when you plan on bein' back," he told Daniel.

To me, he turned and then gave me a warm hug. "I'll be seeing you, my darlin'," he said.

"I hope so," I said, and I meant it. "I hope it's soon."

Daniel and I both went to bed after that, because he said we would be getting up really early the next morning. Before I climbed

into bed, I shoved everything that I'd brought back into Evan's duffel bag, ready to go. I didn't think I'd sleep, but I did.

7

The next morning, I must have been in a light sleep, because it only took a light tap on my door, and then Daniel opening it, and saying

'Hey', one time, for me to wake up.

"I'm awake," I said.

"I'm making coffee. We'll get some breakfast on the road."

"Okay," I said, stretching my arms.

"Get up and get moving," he told me, and disappeared back down the hallway.

I pulled on my clean jeans and t-shirt, and my sneakers without socks. One pair was dirty, and the pair I'd worn the night before

out to supper had gotten wet when I stepped in another puddle. Which meant, of course, that my tennis shoe was wet, but there was

nothing I could do about that now. I turned to look back over the room, wondering if I would ever visit Daniel at this house again.

After I'd gone to the bathroom, I went out to the kitchen, where Daniel had coffee ready to go in two tall travel mugs. I gathered up

my diabetes supplies and put them into the duffel bag.

I pulled on the jacket of Daniel's that I'd been borrowing while I was here, and picked up the bag and my cup, sipping at it,

and watching as Daniel gathered up his own Army green bag, packed with his stuff.

"Ready?" he asked me, quietly, so as not to wake Red up.

I nodded, and he ushered me out, pulling the door closed behind him.

We drove for a while, until we were out of Nashville. "I thought we'd stop at one of the small towns for breakfast," he told me.

"Okay."

After that he started talking about the last time he'd been at home, and we got into a mild disagreement over when it had been.

"It was Christmas," he said. "And then Scooter was born."

"You didn't leave until after January started, though."

He thought for a moment. "I guess that's right."

"Long time ago," I said, feeling sad.

"Not that long," he defended.

"It is for Hannah. And for me. I hate it when I don't get to see you," I said vehemently.

Daniel was quiet for a couple of minutes, and then he said, "I don't like it, either, squirt."

"You like living there, though, right?" I asked.

"Mostly, I do. I wish I was closer so I could get home more, though."

"I do, too," I said fervently.

We stopped for breakfast in a little town called Franklin. The café was small, and homey, and the waitress called us

both 'darlin', when she took our orders. I wasn't all that hungry, because I kept thinking about home, and all of that. I was mostly

sipping at my juice, and another cup of coffee.

"Eat your breakfast," Daniel said.

I said okay, but I'd only ate a little when Daniel got impatient. "Come on, squirt. I wanna get going."

"I'm just not hungry," I said.

He gave me that look. The one that suggested that I eat because he didn't want to deal with a diabetes dilemma on his

watch.

I ate the rest of my eggs, and he sighed. "Let's go," he said. Before we left, he had the waitress package up some biscuits and

fruit for us, since he said he wasn't planning on stopping for lunch.

After we'd driven for awhile again, he said, unexpectedly, "Tell me about Karissa."

I looked at him, a little surprised. "What do you want to know?"

"What's she like, I guess. All of that."

"Well, she's really attractive. You know those sort of older women? The ones who don't look their age, because they have enough money

to take really good care of themselves?" I said.

At his nod, I added, "Well, that's her. And she dresses really nice. Stylish." I thought for a minute. "She's tall. About as tall as you."

"Hmmm."

"Mama wasn't that tall, was she?" I asked.

"No. She was about 5'5", I'd say."

After a couple of moments, he said, "So what else about her?"

"She has a lot of money. And she's been married like three times. Or maybe four, I don't remember."

"Where'd she get her money?" Daniel asked.

"I don't know. Maybe she got it from selling real estate?" I suggested.

"Maybe. More than likely, one of those husbands was a wealthy man," Daniel predicted.

"She's sort of sad. Not all the time, but sometimes. She says she really wanted to be a part of our lives," I said.

"I remember when she came around a couple of times. It wasn't pleasant."

"What happened?" I asked curiously.

"Lots of hollering and yelling. She blew right thru the fence by the barn with her car."

"I know about that. She had Ford with her," I said.

"Yeah. Poor kid. He cried that whole evening," Daniel said.

"And then later you and Evan and Crane had to talk to social services, right?"

"Yeah." He looked pensive, as though he was remembering. "That was tough. I mean, I had a lot of problems, anyway, over losing

Mom and Dad. That just made things worse."

I turned to study him, trying to picture the nine year old that he'd been then. Probably with a mop of too-long dark hair, hanging in his eyes.

"What were you like then?" I asked him.

"I was an unholy mess," he said bluntly. "A walking disaster."

"You weren't that bad, were you?" I said loyally.

"Oh, I was. For sure. Adam or Brian were at the school at least once a week, pulling my fat from the fire, because I didn't behave

myself. I missed Mom so much. Dad, too, but Mom was the one that always understood me."

"You must have been really scared," I said.

"I made it thru. And that was because of Crane, mostly. He-" Daniel hesitated, "He tried to take over where they'd left off."

"I'm glad you had Crane," I said, feeling sad for the little boy he was.

"Me, too. Without him, I don't think I would have made it. Through school, and everything else. He was like the damn glue, holding

us all together." For a moment, Daniel seemed almost emotional. Then he gave me a half-way smile.

"Wow. That really brings a lot of stuff back," he said. "I don't think about it all that much."

"I think that's the difference between guys and girls," I said. "I mean, ever since I heard that she had filed the custody thing,

that's all I ever thought about. And everybody, I mean all of them at home, they said not to worry about it, that it would blow over. They

didn't act worried, even though I knew they were. Guys just push their emotions back. Girls overthink things to the point of obsession."

Daniel looked amused. "Well, listen to you, Miss Psychology," he said.

I shrugged in answer.

"I think that Adam, and Brian, and even everybody else, told you those things because they thought it would ease your worry. They're

do-ers, that's what they do. Fix things. They'd rather solve, than talk about something," Daniel said.

I knew he was right, and I nodded. "It was so-" I hesitated, trying to think of the right word to express myself, "consuming. When I

would try to think about other stuff, then something else would happen with it, and bring it back up. And then I tried to go talk to her to convince her to

drop everything."

"Not the best idea, huh?" Daniel said.

"No. It was the one thing that Adam told me not to do."

When Daniel was silent, I added, "I really disrespected him."

"Yeah. Well, you tell him that, that you understand now what you did, and he'll accept it."

After that we were quiet for a while, as I watched Tennessee disappear out of the truck window.

7

We stopped for a bathroom break near noon, and Daniel bought us both a drink at a gas station, after he filled the truck up.

As he pumped the gas, I stood beside him, doing some stretching to work the kinks out of my back and legs.

"We're makin' good time," Daniel said.

Once on the way again, I returned to the previous subject.

"Karissa drinks a lot," I volunteered, testing out the subject.

"She was for sure lit up when she ran thru the fence that time," Daniel agreed.

"No. I mean, she still drinks. Several glasses of wine with a meal. And sometimes you can smell it on her."

"Serious stuff," Daniel said. "That's something you should be tellin' the lawyer about."

A sense of hope rose up in me. "Would it help?"

"It might."

"Sometimes she acts weird, even when I don't think she's had anything to drink. Sort of-unhinged."

He gave me a narrow-eyed look. "And maybe that has something to do with the fact that Brian and Adam

didn't want you around her?"

"I was hoping she'd changed," I said.

"Some people don't."

"A leopard," I said, almost to myself.

"What?" Daniel asked me.

"Nothing," I said, and then Daniel told me to open up the foil-wrapped package from the café and give him

a couple of biscuits.

7

I ate a couple of biscuits and an apple, throwing the core out of the window, and then I fell asleep for awhile, stirring when

Daniel stopped the truck at another gas station.

"Hey," he said, shaking my shoulder. "Break time if you need it."

I got out and stretched again. "Where are we?" I asked.

"Forrest City, Arkansas."

I went around to the side of the station to use the restroom. When I came back out, Daniel was topping off the gas tank.

After a moment's thought, I rummaged in my bag, and brought out the twenty dollar bill that I had left.

"Here," I said, holding it out to him.

"What's this?" he asked.

"It's what I have left. I should help pay for the gas. It's only right."

Daniel looked thoughtful, then solemnly he nodded, and reached out to take the money from me.

Once we were on our way again, I was quiet for awhile, thinking.

"So what do you think of Crane's new girl?" Daniel asked, after awhile.

"She's nice. She's the teacher of the night class I'm taking. You knew that, right?" I asked.

"Yeah, he told me that. But he won't give up much more information than that about her."

"Wait until you see her," I said, and whistled.

"That good, huh?" he asked, with a crooked grin.

"Yep. Do you think he really likes her? I mean, in a serious way?"

"He's not turnin' that information loose, either," Daniel said. "I'll have to work on him once I get home."

I giggled a little at that.

"Any of those biscuits left?" Daniel asked.

I dug into the foil package. "Three."

"Give me two and you eat one."

"I'm not hungry yet," I protested.

"Well, put it back for later then, because I'm not stopping for supper until at least six or seven tonight."

I handed him the biscuits. "Mr. Mileage," I said, teasing him a little.

"Darn right."

After that we talked about other stuff, nothing major. What teachers were still at school that had been there when he'd attended. How he'd felt

when he'd gotten to meet and talk with Ernest Tubbs at the Grand Old Opry one night. Stuff like that.

We passed the time by playing a game I suggested, where I'd give three clues about a person in our home town, and Daniel had

to guess who it was. Then he would do the same for me.

After awhile I brought the subject around to something that I'd been curious about. "Have you dated much since you've been in

Nashville?" I asked him.

"Not a whole lot. I don't really have the time." he said.

"I bet you have lots of girls ask you out, though. And give you their numbers."

"A few," he said, with a grin.

"Of the girls you have dated there, there's nobody special, though?" I persisted.

"Nope. Nobody special."

"Well, that's good," I said, and he raised his eyebrow at me.

"Why is that good?" he asked.

"I just-well, if you do meet somebody there, and you end up getting married and all of that, well, then we'd never get to see you."

"Little dramatic there, aren't you, squirt?"

I shrugged, and then sighed a little. "I guess so. I just wish you weren't so far away sometimes."

Daniel gave me a look, but didn't really answer that.

What he did say was, "I could probably be persuaded to have you be my houseguest again this summer sometime. If Adam okayed it."

"For real?" I asked him.

"For real. Of course, it goes without saying that you'd be traveling with somebody else from home. Right?"

"Right," I said, and smiled at him.

By the time a couple more hours had gone by, I was ready to be done with riding in a truck for the day. I couldn't imagine how tired Daniel

must be, having to do all the driving. I ate my tucked-away biscuit, and when the radio said it was five-thirty, I looked hopefully at Daniel.

He made no signs of stopping, though, even though I knew he had to be hungry, and exhausted. I bit my lip to keep quiet. I figured it wouldn't

be so smart to complain about anything. Finally, a little after seven, according to the radio, Daniel pulled into the parking lot of a Motel 6.

I wasn't even sure what state, let alone what city, we were in, and frankly, I was too tired to give a hoot.

We carried our duffle bags into the lobby, and Daniel paid for a single room, with two double beds. Once in the room, he tossed his bag onto

one of the beds. "What do you say we order in some pizza? I'm too tired to go back out to a restaurant."

"I think it's a grand idea," I said. "I'll order it. What do you want?"

"A large. I don't care what."

"Pepperoni, then?" I suggested.

"Fine," he said, and flopped down on the bed on his back, and closed his eyes.

I went to the phone, and looked up the number of the nearest pizza delivery on the sheet on the table. I dialed the number, and ordered the

pizza, and when they asked for the address, I turned to Daniel.

"What's the address?"

"Off Route 50," Daniel said, sounding exhausted.

That sounded way too vague and general to me, but when I said, "The Motel 6 off Route 50," they seemed to know exactly what I was

talking about.

"It'll be here in about twenty minutes," I said.

"Okay. I'm gonna grab a shower real quick."

I said okay, but when he didn't move, but just kept lying there like he had been, I went closer to the bed.

"You alright?" I asked.

"Fine as frog's hair," he said, still not moving.

"Give me your foot," I told him.

"Huh?" he asked, opening his eyes.

"Give me your foot," I insisted. "I'll help you get your boots off."

Daniel lifted one leg from the bed just slightly, and I yanked the boot off, and let it drop to the floor.

"Next," I said, snapping my fingers, and Daniel obligingly held up his other leg. When I'd pulled that boot off, Daniel

sat up. "Thanks, squirt. Nice of you to help an old guy out."

"Tips are welcome," I said, and grinned at him, sitting down on the other bed.

"I'll get my shower so I'll be out when the pizza comes. Lock the door," he told me.

Personally, I thought that was a little too cautious, locking the door just while he was in the shower, but I didn't argue. I went

to fasten the latch, and dug my pajamas out of the duffel bag.

After that, I just sort of sat on the end of the bed, not moving.

When Daniel came out, he was in his sweats and t-shirt, rubbing his wet hair with a towel.

"Your turn," he said.

I went into the bathroom, but I didn't even feel like taking a shower. I just got into my pajamas, and refolded my jeans and shirt for the

next day. I did wash my face, though, and it was while I was doing that that I heard Daniel's voice talking to someone. Ah, pizza delivery.

I was suddenly ravenous. I waited until I heard the door close, and then came out.

"That was quick," he said.

"I'm too tired to mess with a shower."

We were each sitting on a bed, eating pizza, and watching television. It was an old episode of Bewitched.

When I reached for my fourth piece of pizza, Daniel yanked his hand back dramatically.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Protecting my fingers," he said. "Have mercy, girl, I haven't seen you eat like this in forever."

I shrugged, and smiled at him, picking up the piece I'd been reaching for.

"I'm hungry now," I said. "But your fingers are safe, I promise."

"I don't know about that," he said, hamming it up. "I'm scared I'll reach out and draw back nothin' but a nub. I sort of need my

fingers for playing guitar, you know."

"Yeah, yeah, cry me a river," I said.

"Tough talk, little girl," he said. "If I wasn't bone-weary, I'd show you a thing or two."

I suddenly felt emotional, and serious. "I love you, Daniel."

"What's the matter?" he asked, obviously surprised by my quick switch from joking and teasing to being nearly tearful.

"Nothing. I-just love you, that's all."

"I love you, too. Now eat your pizza."

7


	75. Emotion Overload

I fell asleep after that, without even brushing my teeth. I was in that state of near-sleep, but not quite there, when I felt

Daniel cover me with the motel blanket.

I slept the night thru, not waking up even once. I heard rustling around, the sound of water running, and I opened my eyes, to see Daniel moving around

the room. Only one lamp with on.

He paused beside the bed, seeing that my eyes were open.

"Rise and shine," he said.

"What time is it?" I asked.

"Five-thirty."

"Ohhhh," I groaned.

"I'm going out and find a cup of coffee. I'm taking the key with me so I can lock the door. Make sure you're up and ready

by the time I get back. Okay?"

"If I say okay, will you bring me some coffee, too?" I asked, looking at him over the edge of the blanket.

"I'll get it, but if you're not ready, then the deal is off, and I drink it," he said, with a half-smile.

"I'll be up," I promised.

And I was. Dressed in the same clothes as yesterday. At least I hadn't done anything to really get them dirty. I went to check my blood sugar level, and

brush my teeth. By the time Daniel got back, carrying two large Styrofoam cups of coffee, and a couple of bananas, I was sitting on the edge of the bed,

my bag packed, my hair in a braid, and ready to go.

He handed me the cup of coffee, and told me to go on out to the truck. "I'll do a sweep of the room and make sure we're not leavin' anything,"

he said.

I gathered up my bag, and my coffee and went out, climbing into the truck. It was still dark out. And it was still cold.

"Here," Daniel said, handing me one of the bananas, as he started the motor. "We'll stop in an hour or so for some

breakfast."

I ate the banana, and drank my coffee, watching out the truck window as the sun came up. I was quiet, thinking. It seemed

surreal that I would actually be arriving back home today. There were lots of things that I was glad about. That it would be warm, that

I could hug on Warrior and fat Clarence, that I would get to see Guthrie, and Isaac. All of that.

There were lots more things that I wasn't so glad about. I missed every single person in that house. I did. But I was scared. There

was no other way to describe it. This was not going to be any Sunday School picnic, as the old saying goes.

My stomach was rumbling with hunger by the time we pulled into a Howard Johnson restaurant.

"We could just grab something from a gas station to eat," I suggested. "It would save time."

"You need a real meal, and so do I. Eat your fill, though, because I don't wanna stop for lunch until after noon," Daniel warned me.

"What time do you think we'll get home?" I asked.

"Depends on traffic. Maybe by late this afternoon."

Seated in the restaurant, Daniel looked at me when the waitress came to take our orders. I ordered sausage and eggs, and a glass of milk.

"How about you, sweetie?" the waitress asked Daniel, looking at him with an appreciative eye.

After Daniel had ordered, and the girl has walked away, I gave Daniel a teasing glance.

"You have a fan," I said. "And she doesn't even know you can sing."

"Hush," he told me.

"You know Hannah's gonna want to cut your hair, the very first thing, right?" I told him.

"More than likely," he agreed.

"Well, maybe not the first thing," I amended. "First, she's going to want to hug on you all evening."

When the waitress brought our plates of food, I was silently wondering if I would even get a hug from Hannah at all.

7

As the hours passed until lunch, and even after a quick hamburger at a drive-in similar to the one in Murphys, I stopped making

conversation for the most part, bunching up Daniel's coat to use as a pillow, and staring out the window. My stomach was knotted,

and my throat began to hurt.

"You okay?" Daniel asked me, finally.

"I'm okay," I said, still looking out the window.

"Not very convincing," Daniel said.

"I'm scared," I admitted, and tried to tamp down tears.

"Yeah. And nothin's going to make that any easier. It's just something you're gonna have to get thru," he told me.

I sat up straighter, and turned to look at him.

"Thank you. For everything you did for me this last week. I appreciate it."

"You appreciate the spanking I gave you, too?" he asked, and I could tell he was half-way teasing.

I felt my face get warm. "No. I didn't appreciate that so much. But, I know I deserved it," I said honestly.

I could see that I'd surprised him a little by that last part.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"I didn't enjoy doing it," Daniel said, and he was all serious now, too. "I'd rather have not had to."

"I know," I said, remembering what Adam had said to me on the phone about how tough a spot I'd put Daniel in.

7

I fell asleep again later, and when I woke up, even though I didn't recognize the surroundings, I knew instinctively that

we were in California.

"Where are we?" I asked.

"An hour and a half from home," he said.

"It's warm!" I said, with joy, and rolled my window down halfway.

"I have to say, it is pretty darn nice," Daniel agreed, and rolled down his own window.

As we drove, getting closer and closer to home, and I saw familiar sights, I was torn between happiness and anxiety.

7

By the time we were driving thru Murphys, my stomach was so knotted that I was feeling nauseous. We were outside the city

limits, when I knew I was going to be sick.

"Daniel, stop!" I said urgently.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm gonna be sick!"

Daniel pulled over to the side of the road really quickly, and I opened my door, tumbling out, and doubling over.

Daniel came around to my side, and held my hair back from my face with one hand, and rubbed my back with the other.

"This is so-embarrassing," I said, in between the throwing up. "People driving by are gonna see-"

"Screw that," Daniel said. "It doesn't matter."

I doubled over, vomiting again. Finally, when I was done, Daniel dug around in the truck and brought me a few paper

napkins. I wiped at my face, and my mouth.

"Here," Daniel said, guiding me to the running board. "Sit down for a minute."

I sat down, catching my breath a little. People were driving by, and a couple of them, obviously recognizing Daniel standing there,

honked.

I heard another vehicle stopping beside ours, mufflers loud, "Daniel!" somebody hollered. "Is that you, you son-of-a-gun?"

I made the move to stand back up, embarrassed and wanting to go.

"Just sit tight," Daniel said, motioning me back down with his hand. Then he hollered back, "Hey, Justin, how you doin'?"

I sat there, trying to calm my stomach and my nerves, as Daniel chatted with somebody. I never stood up to take a look, but

from the name, and the sound of his voice, I was fairly sure it was Justin Styles, who'd been a year or so behind Daniel in school.

Once they'd talked, and Daniel had assured Justin that he wasn't having any truck trouble, then Justin drove on, telling Daniel

to call him so they could get together and play some pool.

I stood up, bunching the napkins into a ball in my hand.

"Better?" he asked me.

"I guess so."

"Let's run back to town and get you a 7-up, to settle your stomach," he suggested.

"I'll be alright now."

"Hamburger too greasy?" he asked me.

"It wasn't the hamburger," I said.

"I know," he said, with a sigh. "You've got yourself all worked up about comin' home, no doubt about it."

"I'll be alright," I said, again.

Once we were back in the truck, Daniel did a U-turn in the road, turning back to Murphys.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Gettin' you that 7-up."

"You don't have to," I protested, but Daniel paid no attention, parking on the edge of town, at the gas station. He went inside,

and he was gone for more than a few minutes. He came back out, carrying a can of 7-up.

He handed it to me, and as I opened it, and sipped, I said, "The guys in there wanting to talk your leg off, too?"

"I was givin' a call to home, letting 'em know we're almost there," he said.

"Oh."

I sipped at my pop, as we drove. As the house came into sight, I felt my heart sort of soar. Charlie and Petra and the other horses

were in the front pasture, and they ran to the fence, tossing their heads.

"Horses are sayin' hello," Daniel said.

At the end of our long driveway, Daniel stopped the truck, and put it into park. I looked at him, puzzled.

Daniel was looking up towards the house. "Sure is good to see," he said.

He turned to look at me then. "We can sit here a few minutes, if you need to. Tell me when you're feelin' ready."

Again, he was thinking of me. Looking out for me. Doing his best to make things easier for me.

"How did you get to be such an awesome brother?" I asked him.

"Rule number fourteen in the Older Brothers Handbook," he said, quoting, "Only the most awesome of brothers get

a little sister that's just as awesome."

I undid my seat belt, and scooted over next to him, hugging his arm.

We sat like that for a few quiet minutes, and then I said, "I'm ready."

Daniel put the truck in gear, and drove up the driveway.

7

Daniel parked close to the barn, and I was busy counting vehicles in my head, to see who was home, and who was gone.

All vehicles were present and accounted for. I sighed a little. I wouldn't have minded so much if Evan had been gone, out on a date

with Nancy, or something. I was feeling a little panicky, and a lot overwhelmed.

I wondered if everybody was in the house for the evening already. Usually, my brothers try not to do too much on Sunday, other than the basic

chores. I was still sitting there, in my seat, looking at the house, when Daniel came around to my side, and opened my door.

Still, I sat there. "I can't, Daniel," I said. "I can't do it."

"Yeah, you can."

Gus came around the corner of the barn, barking a greeting to us. He practically climbed up in the truck cab to greet me, jumping

on Daniel's leg.

"Hullo, old boy," Daniel said, rubbing Gus's ear.

A motion caught at the corner of my eye, and I saw Adam standing there, at the open door of the barn. I couldn't say anything,

but Daniel had seen him, too. His face lit up, and he went towards Adam, and they met in a tight hug. They stood that way for a moment,

and then, they both stepped back, and Adam kept his hands on Daniel's shoulders, while they talked to each other.

Adam pulled Daniel into another hug. I got out of the truck, with Gus still dancing around my feet. I pushed the truck door

closed, and walked around to the front of the truck. It felt as though my legs were made of jelly. For real.

Adam looked past Daniel, and at me. At first he stood there, not saying anything to me, I felt my lower lip quiver, just like it used

to when I was a little kid, and I bit at it to stop.

Adam's facial expression was stern. He didn't look particularly welcoming. There was no glimmer of a smile at all. But then, he

held out an arm to me. Inviting me to him.

I bit my lip harder, and then I ran. I wrapped my arms around his middle, and pressed my face into his chest. Sobbing.

He tightened his arms around me, and held me.

I could hear somebody from the house yelling to Daniel, and then hollering as the family came out to greet him. I stayed where I was,

not raising my face from Adam's chest. I stopped crying so hard, and risked a look up at Adam. He surveyed me solemnly out of

his tanned face. He looked tired.

He ran a thumb over my cheek, and then he met my eyes, and gave me a brief nod, loosening his hold on me.

I knew what that nod meant. It was Adam-speak for 'time to stop crying and get on with things'.

I took a deep breath, and stepped away from him a little, though I could feel the hand he kept on my lower back.

By now, I could see who all had made their way out of the house, and gathered in the middle of the yard,

jubilant over laying their eyes on Daniel. Which was pretty near to everyone.

"Har!" I heard Guthrie holler, and then he was upon me, gathering me up and swinging me off of my feet. "I missed your crazy

ass," he said, close to my ear.

"I missed you, too," I said, and he gave me another squeeze.

I would have been fine just hanging onto Guthrie for the rest of the time, but there were others to face. Daniel was still being welcomed, hugged and

back-slapped like he'd been rescued from Gilligan's Island.

I turned from Guthrie to look up at Crane. He gave me a pensive look, full of word-less emotion.

He gave me a hug, and smoothed the hair back from my face. "You scared the holy crap out of me," he said, without ceremony.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"Yeah," he said, and then gave me another hug.

Clare was reaching for me from Crane's other side. "I'm so glad to see you!" she said.

"Me, too," I said, and turned to look right into Hannah's face.

"Hi," she said, looking sad, and a little unsure.

I took a deep breath. "Hi, Hannah."

And then she was hugging me, too, and I could feel her shoulders shaking as she started to cry.

"Oh, Harlie!" she said. She raised her face to look into mine again, putting both her hands on my cheeks.

"I let you down! I didn't help you!" she said, in a fierce whisper, her blue eyes shiny with tears.

"You did," I defended, in a low voice, too. "It wasn't your fault. None of it. It was mine."

She gave me a long look, and then said, "Supper's on, everybody, let's go inside."

Everybody started towards the house, At the bottom stair, I paused, letting Guthrie go on around me. Brian was standing on

the second stair, his hands on his hips. Guthrie, and everybody else, too, went around Brian and I, all still talking and laughing.

I looked up at Brian, who was tall enough, but now loomed even taller, standing on that step like he was.

I was going to say a simple, 'Hi, Bri', in greeting, but he looked angry. Ferocious. So I bit at my lip, and waited.

"Harlie Marie," he said. His voice was quiet enough. But that was all he said, at least right then.

"Yes, sir," I said, hoping it would help.

"No more sir," he said, sounding abrupt.

"Okay," I said tremulously, trying hard to keep eye contact with him.

He came down to the bottom step, and put his hands in the pockets of his jeans. Still surveying me with that same look.

"There's not gonna be anything even remotely easy about this for you," he said, gruffly. "You've got fences to mend, peach."

"Yes," I said, quietly, in agreement.

He was quiet for another moment, as if he was waiting for me to argue, or offer excuses. When I did neither of those, he gave a deep

sigh, and then, with a suddenness that caught my breath, he picked me up off of my feet, his arms around my waist. I wrapped my

arms around his neck, and hugged him as tight as I could. He held me like that for a couple of minutes, and then he set me down again.

"Don't you ever-and I mean ever, do anything like that again," he said, sternly.

"I promise," I said, nearly in a whisper,

7

Mingling in the living room, and then crowding into the kitchen, where there seemed to be food sitting everywhere. On the table, on the

counters, on the stove. Masses of food. Fruit plates, vegetable trays with dip, bbq beef on a platter, with buns beside it, French fries, chips,

two cakes and a couple of pies. Hannah was at my elbow, looking concerned.

"Daniel says you were feeling sick at your stomach," she said, low. "What sounds good to you? There might be some yogurt in the

refrigerator-"

"It's okay. I'll get some fruit or something," I told her.

I saw Evan, loading up a plate with food, and then watched him stop to talk to Daniel. They gave each other a back-slap and Evan went

towards the living room. I watched him go past, and he didn't even look at me. I put some watermelon and apple slices on a plate

and when Guthrie said, "Come on," to me, I followed him.

Guthrie sat down on the floor, leaning against the end of the couch, and I sat down cross-legged, beside him.

"No school for two more days," he told me, sounding joyful. "Water pipe burst over break."

"Wow," I said.

The talking went on around me, most of it directed to Daniel, and I nibbled at my fruit, feeling weird. Almost as if I were in

a movie, watching what was happening around me, without being a part of it.

I watched everybody without being obvious about it. Hannah looked haggard, I guess was the right word. I'd done that to her, I thought, with

guilt. Adam was eating his bbq sandwich, listening to Daniel, and I thought how really tired that he looked. Evan was listening to Daniel, too,

and eating. He looked just like he usually did, except he never glanced my way. Not even once.

I wondered how long it would be before he ever spoke to me at all. I wondered I should be the one to try to talk first. I didn't think I

had the nerve to do it tonight, though.

I finished my fruit, and got to my feet, stepping around others to go to the kitchen, where I put my plate in the sink. I heard

whimpering out the back door, and went to open it. Fat Clarence was there. I got on my knees, wrapping my arms around his neck.

"Clarence," I crooned softly. "Sweet boy."

I sat out there like that with Clarence for I don't know how long. Sometimes in stillness, sometimes whispering to him. The stars

had begun to pop out. I gloried in the fact that I was in short sleeves and still warm enough.

I heard noises in the kitchen thru the screen door. I sat quietly, and knew I should have let it be known I was out there, because

I heard something that I wasn't meant to hear.

A conversation that had obviously been started before it was brought into the kitchen.

"All I'm sayin' is be fair, man," came Daniel's voice.

"I haven't been unfair." This from Evan.

There was more rattling of dishes, and the sound of water running in the sink.

"Give her a chance," Daniel persisted.

That's when I knew they were talking about me. Daniel was trying to smooth things over between me and Evan, even though he'd told me

that he wouldn't. For a moment, I was grateful. Then I wasn't so sure, when I heard something slamming on the table.

"I'm done talkin' about this," Evan said.

"She's just a kid, Ev. You and I made plenty of mistakes," Daniel went on.

"Maybe you'd feel different in my shoes," Evan said.

"Maybe I would," Daniel said, in agreement.

"I don't wanna argue with you. I mean, you just got here," Evan said.

"So you'll be willin' to argue with me tomorrow, then?" Daniel asked, with humor.

"Maybe so," Evan said, and I heard them scuffling around, and laughing.

They said no more about me, and left the kitchen a few minutes after that.

I hugged Clarence tighter, and kept watching as more stars appeared.

7


	76. Chatting with Isaac

Warrior eventually joined Clarence and I on the back step, and we three sat there together, until the back door

opened a couple of inches. I scooted over to get out of the way.

"Here you are," Crane said.

"Yeah."

Crane came on out the door, letting the screen door shut behind him. He watched me with the dogs for a moment.

"I think they missed you," he said.

"They're good boys," I said, and rubbed Warrior's head with vigor.

Crane leaned against the house, crossing his arms, and looking up at the sky.

"It feels so good here. Warm. It's so cold where Daniel is," I said, in conversation.

"Yeah. I'll bet," Crane said.

When Crane was quiet, I said, "How's Miss Noel?"

"She's good."

After a few minutes, Crane sat down beside me on the step, stretching his long legs out in front of him.

"Daniel talked to me," I said.

"About?" he asked.

"About you. And how he couldn't have gotten thru everything when he was younger without you."

"Daniel gives me too much credit," Crane said.

"I can see it, though. You've always been good to us younger kids, too. I bet what Daniel says is true."

Crane was silent, and I added, "He says you were the glue."

"Hmm. Well, that's-real nice," he said, and I thought he sounded pleased.

There was a sound at the door, behind us, and Hannah spoke thru the screen. "We wondered where you two went," she

said. "Daniel wants you come in. He says he needs you both to help out."

"What is it we're needed to help out with, exactly?" Crane asked.

"You on guitar," Hannah said, pointing to Crane, "and you on piano," she added, gesturing towards me.

"I don't want to," I said, in a low voice, but Hannah had gone.

Crane stood up and I did, too. "Come on," he said, holding the door open for me.

I went in ahead of him, and paused. "I don't want to play the piano in front of everybody," I told him.

"Why not?" he asked.

"Because. Because-I feel weird. Like I'm a guest, sort of. I don't want all that attention."

Crane gave me a long look, his expression serious. Then he leaned down, so that he was on nearly eye-level with me.

"You are not a guest in this house," he said, with finality. "And if you feel as though you are, then we need to fix it."

I tried to meet his eye, and I did, but I was quiet.

"Nobody's going to force you to play the darn piano," he went on. "Okay?"

"Okay."

He straightened up to his full height again, and said, "Come on," to me.

I followed him thru the kitchen to the living room, filled with McFaddens.

"Sit down, squirt," Daniel told me, pointing at the piano.

I shook my head at Daniel, hoping he would take the hint, and back off.

"She doesn't want to right now," Crane said, quietly, so no one but Daniel and I could hear him.

Daniel looked at Crane and then at me. "Okay," he said.

Everybody sat around after that, eating more pie and drinking coffee and sweet tea, listening to Daniel and Crane play the

guitar. In the middle of it, somebody knocked on the front door, and Evan, obviously expecting Nancy, went to answer it.

And it was Nancy. I sort of felt my nerves jump around again. She would have, of course, heard Evan's side of things. If I was to

be perfectly honest, there really was only that one side, though. I'd deliberately tricked Evan, and taken advantage of his kindness last

Sunday. I liked Nancy, and I had the feeling that she wouldn't think much of me now, for treating Evan that way.

I was sitting between Clare and Guthrie on the couch, with Brian on the other end beside Clare, so there was no room to spare.

I felt better sitting between Clare and Guthrie.

Nancy came in, seemingly her usual bubbly self, saying hi to everybody in a general sort of way.

She went off to the kitchen with Evan, and returned with a plate of BBQ. She still had her work shirt on, so she'd obviously just

gotten off of work at the Farm Center. The singing went on for awhile after that. I carefully kept my gaze from Nancy and Evan's

direction.

After another hour or so, Daniel pleaded tiredness. I was glad, in a way. I was tired, too. It had been a long, emotional day.

"No school tomorrow," Guthrie reminded me. "Wanna go fishing?"

"If I can," I said.

"Why can't you?" he asked.

I shrugged, not wanting to explain where anyone might overhear. I was still feeling unsure of things, and not certain what I was

going to be allowed to do and what I wasn't.

As everybody was standing up, and milling around, Brian, who was the nearest brother to me at the moment,

said, "You look tired," to me.

"I am." I remembered that I'd left my bag with my diabetes supplies out in Daniel's truck. I told Brian I needed to go

get it, and he nodded, turning to talk to Crane.

I slipped out the front door, and went to the truck. There was the one yard light and the stars lighting the way.

I grabbed my bag, and Daniel's too, and shut the door, and went around to the back door. The kitchen was empty for the moment,

and I unpacked my supplies, and gave myself my shot. I left the dirty clothes in there, thinking I would do my laundry in the morning.

Brian came into the kitchen, carrying an armful of plates, and cups.

"Grab a few of these, will you, peach," he said. "I'm about to drop some."

I went over and took several of the cups that were hooked over his fingers. We both deposited everything in the kitchen sink, and

he turned to look at me.

"Going up to bed?" he asked, sounding kind.

I nodded.

"Alright," he said, and surveyed me, intently for a couple of moments. "I'll take a hug goodnight, if you wanna give me one," he said.

"I want to," I said, and wrapped my arms around his waist. He hugged me, real tight for a quick moment, and then rubbed my

back.

When he released me, and I stepped back, he said, "Ready to work for me tomorrow? We've got some fence to ride."

I was so happy right then, that I was going to be out riding the next day. I didn't even care where we went or what I had to do.

"Yes, I'm ready," I assured him.

"Alright. Get on to bed, then."

I went up the back stairs, and was almost to my bedroom door, when I heard Isaac cooing and babbling from Hannah and Adam's room.

The door was half-open, and I went in, peeking around the door to look at him.

"Hi, little buddy," I said, and it was almost as though he smiled at me in recognition.

He made more baby talk to me, waving his little hands.

I went over to his crib, and leaned over, picking him up. "You're wet," I told him. "Let's get you changed."

I took him over to the bed, and grabbed a clean diaper and baby t-shirt. For the next few minutes, while I changed his diaper and

his wet onesie, I talked to him. Telling him that I'd missed him, that he was the most beautiful baby in the state of California, even in the world.

"You're lucky," I told him, picking him up and setting him on my leg, as we sat on the bed. "You get to grow up where it's warm. And you

get to grow up here, in this house, on this land. You'll have your own pony, and then a big horse someday, just like I did. And everybody

in this house will love you. You'll never have to wonder if you belong, or if you're really wanted, cause they're all really good at loving kids."

Isaac cooed at me, and reached his chubby little hands out towards my face.

"Do you need a bottle?" I asked him. "Are you hungry, huh? I'll see if your mommy has your bottle for you. Do you want to

wait in your crib while I go and ask her?"

"Here's his bottle," said a voice, at the bedroom door, and I turned my head, startled.

Adam was standing there in the open doorway, his shoulder resting against the door frame, a bottle of milk in his hand.

I'd been so startled by his voice, and his presence, that my heart was jumping a little. I was wondering how long he'd been

standing there like that, and how much of what I'd said he had heard.

"I didn't know you were there," I said, lamely.

"I didn't mean to scare you," he said.

"It's okay," I said, hoisting Isaac up a little tighter to my chest.

Adam came on into the room. "You want to feed him?" he offered, holding out the bottle to me.

"Yeah." I took it from him, and scooted back on the bed a little, and started to feed the baby.

Adam sat down in the rocking chair towards the front of the bed. There was silence for a few minutes, while Isaac greedily

downed his milk. I kept my eyes on the baby mostly, but a couple of times, when I looked up, Adam

was just watching. He looked tired, like I'd thought earlier, but he didn't look angry. More thoughtful.

"That was nice. What you were sayin' to Scooter," he said quietly.

So he had heard me. I felt my face get a little warm. I looked at him, and shrugged a little, feeling embarrassed.

"It was, Harlie. It was nice," he said again. He looked pleased.

I nodded then. "Maybe he won't have to wait until he's four for his first pony," I suggested, alluding to the family rule

that a kid had to be past their fourth birthday before they got their own pony.

"We'll see," Adam said.

Isaac had finished off his bottle, and was lolling back in my arms, reaching his hand for one of my curls. He looked as though

he was fighting sleep.

"I think he'll go to sleep," I said.

"Here, I'll take him," Adam said, and stood up, reaching down and taking Isaac in his arms.

He began to sway back and forth a little with him.

"You goin' to bed?" he asked me, talking quietly.

"Yeah," I said, just as quietly.

"I'll come in in a few minutes to say goodnight," he said, as he laid Isaac in his crib.

"Okay."

I went down the hall to my own room, pulling on my pajamas, and then going to brush my teeth and wash my face.

I sat down cross-legged on my bed, looking around the tiny room. It felt strange almost to be here after a whole week away. I was

leafing thru my mom's journal, which I keep on my nightstand usually, when there was a light tap on my half-open door.

I laid the journal aside, as Adam came into the room.

I sat up sort of straight, and folded my hands in my lap. I felt a little quick tremor of nervousness. Nothing major, just a little.

I wondered if he was coming in to talk about everything, to discuss what I'd done some more, or talk consequences.

"Remember to do your shot?" he asked me.

I nodded, and he came over to the side of the bed. "It's good to have you in here again," he said, giving me a direct look.

And just like that, I lost what composure that I'd had. Tears rose up in my eyes.

"It's good to be here again," I managed.

Adam looked as though he was going to say something else, but he hesitated, and then said simply, "I reckon Guthrie told you

about no school for a couple more days."

"Yeah. He told me."

"I have to leave tomorrow afternoon, to drive to Stockton for a meeting. I thought you might ride along with me," Adam said.

I was fairly sure that it wasn't really a request. More of an order. It was probably to do some of that "talking" that

he had planned for me. Still, he was being nice about it.

"Okay," I said, swiping at my eyes.

"We'll get some supper out somewhere," he added.

I nodded. "K."

He motioned with his hand, for me to get under the covers on the bed. I scooted down under them, and he pulled the blanket

up a little.

"You gonna be able to sleep, you think?" he asked.

"Yes. I'm real tired."

"Okay." He went over and switched off the light. "Goodnight."

"Night, Adam," I said.

7


	77. The brown of a fawn

And I did sleep that night. When I woke up the next morning, it was to banging down the hallway, and the sound of booted

feet, walking back and forth, and an occasional bit of talking or laughing. I laid there for a couple of minutes, looking around the room,

and listening to the hallway's familiar sounds. It wasn't quiet like it was at Daniel's house. It sounded like-well, like home.

For a moment, I was happy just to lay there and listen. I got up and got dressed, feeling hopeful.

7

When I came out of my room a few minutes later, carrying my boots in one hand to put on downstairs, I nearly bumped into Guthrie, coming

down the hallway. We were exchanging a quick conversation, with me telling him that I was going with Brian this morning, and then

with Adam to Stockton this afternoon. It was while we were talking that Evan came out of his bedroom further down the hallway. He was

buttoning up his shirt as he walked.

Immediately, I felt my stomach knot in nerves. I wondered if I could gather up enough courage to say something to him.

"Hey," Guthrie said, in greeting to him.

"Hey," Evan said in return.

As Evan was nearly upon me, obviously bent on passing me without a word, I said, "Morning," trying to keep my voice steady.

Evan flicked a glance my way, and said, "Morning," and passed on by.

I stood there, feeling wounded. His response had been curt, which I wasn't so bothered by. It was the look on his face

when he'd said it. That was what I felt, down to my toes. It hadn't been a glare. At least not exactly. It had been more of a-well, dismissal

is the only way I can describe it.

I sighed, feeling discouraged. Guthrie was looking sympathetic.

"He's never going to talk to me," I fretted.

"He will. Once he gets over his mad," Guthrie said in disagreement.

I shook my head, and we went on down the stairs to the kitchen, where everybody was congregated for breakfast.

Crane gave my neck an affectionate squeeze as he passed behind me, and I sat down, taking eggs and fruit to eat. My brothers

were talking about what needed to be done first, and what could wait until later. Daniel, who was dressed in tattered jeans and a

t-shirt that had seen better days, was wolfing down waffles, and saying that it sounded as though the tractor needed a new

something-or-other. In between his eating and his talking, he looked across the table at me.

"Doing okay?" he asked me.

I gave him a nod, and put a piece of cantaloupe in my mouth.

"Do you have some clothes that need washing?" Hannah asked me.

When I nodded she told me to put them downstairs in front of the washer. "I'll throw them in with my stuff," she said.

I thought about telling her that she didn't have to do my laundry, but it seemed as though it would draw more attention if

I did, so I just said, "Thank you," to her.

Hannah gave me a somewhat puzzled look, and then asked, "What are you doing today?"

"Helping Brian, I think," I said. "And then this afternoon, riding with Adam to Stockton."

"That's good," she said.

I gave Hannah a good look. She looked less tired this morning, but still, her usual cheery face wasn't all that cheery.

"Tomorrow I'll help you in the house," I told her. "Unless there's more stuff outside for me to help with."

"It's fine," she said. "I'll be glad to have you inside with me if you can."

I finished the food on my plate, and when everybody else started getting up, pushing in their chairs, I started clearing the table,

and stacking the dishes.

"Harlie, let's go," Brian said, and I set down the last stack on the counter, and went to the living room, sitting down to pull on

my boots. While I was doing that, Brian came up behind me, and put my cowboy hat on my head.

"Thanks," I said, and pushed it back up off of my forehead a little.

It wasn't just me going with Brian to help. Crane went, too, and Guthrie. And Evan. I listened to Brian's instructions, and the morning

passed quickly. We were patching fence, and counting cattle, at the same time. Crane had a small notebook in his shirt pocket,

and would scribble down the numbers on the cow's ear tags.

When we all met up at one point, Crane said that he hadn't seen numbers 24 or 33. Then they got into an involved discussion about

whether #33 was a bred cow or not.

Guthrie was sitting, taking a long drink out of his canteen, while Crane, Brian and Evan were talking, even squabbling about #33.

I stayed quiet, too, shaking my head when Guthrie offered me the canteen.

"Well, let's find 'em," Brian said, sounding irritated, and we all split up, searching for the two missing cows.

I would have gone out on my own, but Brian said, "Stick with me," so I rode behind him a little, coming up to ride side by side.

The sun was bearing down, and it was getting hot. I had no complaints about that, though. I shaded my eyes, searching against

the trees.

"The #33, that's the fawn-colored one, right?" I asked him.

"Fawn-colored?" Brian asked, giving me an incredulous look. "Brown. She's brown," he stated simply.

For a moment, I forgot myself, responding jokingly with him. "There's brown, and then there's brown, Bri. There's chocolate brown, and there's

coffee-colored brown. Fawn brown is a real light brown-"

Brian brought his horse to a halt, taking off his ball cap, and swiping his forehead with his arm. He gave me a level look and I thought

I saw his eyes sparkle a little at me.

"Come here a minute," he said, beckoning me closer, as he put his hat back on.

I rode Petra over close enough that she was nearly touching his horse. "What?" I asked.

In response, he gave my hat a yank, until it completely covered my face. I pushed it back up, smiling at him a little.

"Okay, Sassy-pants," he told me. "Yes, #33 is what you'd call fawn-colored, I guess."

"Well, okay. Now that I have the correct information, maybe we can find her," I said.

"Well, do it, then," he said, with a chuckle. "Start earnin' your keep."

Twenty minutes or so later, I thought I heard the sound of a baby calf bawling. I'd fallen behind Brian a ways, and I

pulled Petra to a stop, listening.

Then I hollered to Brian. He stopped and rode back towards me. "What?"

"Listen," I told him. "I hear a baby calf."

Brian listened, and gave a nod. "Sounds like it," he agreed, and we rode in the direction of the noise.

We came to the edge of a ravine, not too steep of a one, and down there was #33. And her new calf.

"There we go," Brian said, and pulled his rifle from its holster. He fired a shot into the air, letting everybody else

know that we'd located a cow. And then he swung down from his horse, looking over the edge of the ravine, with his hands on his hips, thinking.

"This is goin' to be hard on an old man," he muttered. And then he went down the edge, slowly, and sliding every couple of feet.

I heard horses coming our way, and Evan rode from one direction, while Crane and Guthrie came from another.

"Do you need your rope. to put on the mama?" I called down to Brian.

"Naw, she'll come up, if her baby's up top," Brian called back.

The other three were there. and off their horses by now, and Evan slid down the hill to help Brian. Brian, who had lifted the calf

in his arms, was starting to struggle up the small hill under the weight. The calf was bawling her head off, making it hard to

hear anything else. Then the mama cow started in.

Brian made it half-way up, and then slid back a little. By the time he reached the top with the calf, Crane reached out to take

over. Evan began to push the mama cow from behind, urging her up the hill. She stumbled and nearly fell, knocking Evan off his feet.

Guthrie began to laugh, and Evan looked up. "When you stop laughin', then you can get your butt down here and help me," he told Guthrie.

"On my way," Guthrie said, still laughing. Between the two of them they got the mother cow started up the hill, and when she reached

the top, she went immediately to her calf.

"Darn fool cow," Evan was muttering. "Pickin' a spot like that to have her baby."

For a long few moments, they all stood there, catching their breath. "Whew," Brian breathed.

"We found #24," Crane was telling Brian.

"Yeah? Good. I guess this'll teach you not to argue with me about whether a cow is bred or not," Brian told Crane, gesturing

towards the calf, who was busy nursing, and swishing her tail back and forth.

Crane shrugged and smiled a little. "Guess it will," he said, not bothered.

7

I'd enjoyed my morning immensely. Being out in the fresh air, and the sunshine, and on horseback, all of those things made it

a winning morning all by themselves. Add to that getting to be with Crane and Guthrie, and Brian, and the joking and horsing around

between Brian and I, well it was a morning well spent. As far as I was concerned.

The only fly in the ointment was Evan. Not that he'd done anything. He hadn't been rude to me. He hadn't hollered or called

me a name, or any of that. He'd simply ignored me. Acted as if I wasn't there at all.

Which I supposed that I should be grateful for. I sighed, wondering what would happen if I was out alone in a field somewhere,

and was thrown from my horse, and hit my head on a rock, or broke my leg, or something. What if Evan happened to be the one

that came upon me? I wondered if he would just look down at me from his horse, and tell me that he would send help, and then

ride away again.

Maybe he wouldn't even offer to send help. Maybe he'd say in a disgusted way, "That's what you deserve."

I was being silly, and I knew it. When we had unsaddled our horses and put them away, it was time for lunch. We all went

inside, to wash up. Daniel and Adam were already inside, and Adam was starting a pot of coffee.

When Adam asked how the morning had gone, Brian said, "We are the proud owners of a new baby calf, born to #33."

"That's good," Adam said.

"Yep. She's fawn-colored, just like her mama," Brian added, and tugged at my braid. "Right, peach?"

"Right," I said, and he winked at me, going to sit in his own spot at the table.

"What's this?" Adam asked.

"I was educated in the fact that brown does not necessarily mean brown," Brian said.

After lunch, Adam was finishing a second cup of coffee, and he told me that we'd be leaving in an hour or so to go to

Stockton.

I went upstairs, and took a quick shower, and then put on a pair of my better jeans, that I keep for school, and a

tan blouse. I pulled on my boots from Brian, the teal blue ones. And then I took my hairbrush and headed back downstairs,

pulling my braid loose as I walked.

In the living room, I found Clare and Hannah, sitting on the couch.

Clare greeted me with a smile, and Hannah asked, "Want me to brush out your hair for you?"

"Sure. If you want to," I said, still feeling a little shy with her.

"I said so, didn't I?" she replied tartly, sounding more like her old self.

I sat on the floor, cross-legged in front of her, while she brushed at my hair. When Clare got up to go greet Brian on the porch,

there was quiet in the room between Hannah and I.

"I've missed brushing your hair," she said, after a couple of minutes.

I didn't know what to say, really, so I didn't answer.

"It's been a long time. You used to ask me to do it a lot," she went on, softly.

I was still tongue-tied, in a way. It seemed as though Hannah was getting at something, but I wasn't sure what. She

sounded as though she missed me, or missed doing things for me.

"It probably has a ton of tangles in it," I said, for lack of something better to say.

"It's not too bad," she said.

After a couple of moments of thought, I bit at my lip, and then plunged forward. "I'm sorry for what I did, Hannah. Taking off

like that. Worrying everybody." It was easier to say when I was looking out towards the porch, and not at her face.

Hannah didn't answer immediately. I began to think she wasn't going to. Then I heard her sigh a little.

"I know it's been hard for you. This whole thing is just a huge mess. But, please Harlie, don't do anything like that

again-I don't think we could stand up to it-"

"I won't!" I said. "I never would, again."

She was quiet, until she gave my shoulder a pat. "All done, and rebraided," she said, and I twisted a little on the floor to look at her.

"Thanks," I said.

Hannah held out my hairbrush to me. "Like I said, I've missed doing it." She gave me a smile. "Ask me again."

"I will."

Adam came down the stairs, buttoning his shirt sleeves. He was dressed up. Well, for Adam he was dressed up. A nice pair of

jeans, and a blue Western shirt, and his best cowboy boots.

"Be still, my heart," Hannah said, at the sight of him, and Adam leaned down to give her a quick kiss.

"Thanks," he said.

For a moment, it made me glad just to watch them like that, teasing, and then being so loving to each other.

"Are you ready?" Adam asked me.

I nodded, and got to my feet.

Adam and Hannah said goodbye, and Adam ushered me out the front door. "We're taking the truck," he said,

and I went to get in on the passenger side of our battered farm truck. It was, as Brian liked to say, not pretty, but would

get you where you needed to go.

We'd driven in silence, until we were a few miles up the road.

"Have you been talking to Hannah?" he asked me.

I knew what he meant. He didn't mean in general. He meant about-well, everything that had happened.

"Yes. Well, a little bit," I amended.

"Okay. I think it's going to need to be more than a little bit, though."

I heard the censure in his words, and felt my face get warm.

"Okay," I said, trying to look at him.

"It's not easy to make amends with people. Sometimes it's even harder when it's your family. But it needs to be done," he said.

I felt my throat tighten. Wow. This was going to be difficult. Five minutes into the conversation, and I already felt like escaping out

the truck window.

"I will," I promised. Then, more honestly, I said, "I mean, I'm going to try really hard."

"I talked to John again on Friday," he said. "He says that when he contacted Karissa's lawyer the last time, he said he hadn't been able to

get in touch with her for awhile."

"Does that mean something?" I asked.

"It might. And then again, it might not."

"Oh." I thought for a moment, about what Daniel had said. In for a penny, in for a pound, I thought. It looked as though I was already going to be

grounded until I was twenty-one. If, by telling Adam this, it helped to settle the custody thing, then so be it.

"I think Karissa might have a drinking problem," I said.

"I'd say she did, for sure," he said, in agreement.

I saw, that just like with Daniel, I was going to have to clarify what I meant.

"I mean, I think she still might," I said. "Sometimes you can smell it on her. And once, she took me out to eat, and she

had several glasses of wine, just at the one meal."

Adam's jaw set a little tighter. "When was this?" he asked.

"Early on. I think just a little while after I met her."

"And you rode with her," he said, and it wasn't a question. It was a flat statement of fact. "After she'd been drinking."

"Yes, sir," I said, feeling miserable.

"Damn it, Harlie," he swore, and smacked the steering wheel a little.

I bit at my lip, and waited.

"I thought you knew better," he said, sounding angry.

"She seemed like she was still okay to drive," I began. "Like it hadn't affected her, really." At his piercing look, I subsided. No excuses. That

was my new motto. So I added, honestly, "But, yes, I did know better."

"There's a considerable number of things that I thought you knew better than to do," he said, darkly. "But by your actions lately, I guess

you don't." He sounded majorly ticked off, and I wilted just a little, intimidated, against my door.

I felt my eyes fill with tears, and I tried to tamp them down.

I stayed quiet, and so did he, for what seemed like a long time. I knew he was trying to get a firmer hold on his

temper. Finally, he asked, "Why are you telling me now?"

"One reason is because Daniel said it might help, if they knew that she drives after she's been drinking."

"That's one reason. Is there another one?" he asked shortly.

I nodded. "Because I don't want to be a liar anymore."

I'd surprised him with that. I could tell. For a moment, his jaw seemed to relax a bit.

"That's good to hear," he said.

"Sometimes, she acts strange, even when I don't think she's been drinking," I went on. "She sort of acts weird."

"Weird, how?" he asked.

I thought about how to explain it. "Well, she acts like she doesn't hear you, and she does things that don't make any sense. Like-when

I went to try to talk to her, and try to get her to drop it? She wouldn't stop the car, even though I told her I had to get

back to class, and that I didn't want to go any further. And then, she stopped the car, and got out by this old trail. She said

Mom used to hike there, or something. And she acted as though she was going to go down it. Even in high heels."

"Hmm," he said. "But she didn't?"

"No. I told her that it was probably private property, and that she couldn't just do that."

"Hmm," he said again.

"Sometimes, she's a little scary," I said. "I mean, not scary like she's going to hurt you, but scary like you just don't know what

she's going to do next." I hesitated a little, looking at him. "Do you know what I mean?"

"I know what you mean," he said.

I was quiet then, until he spoke again. "This might all be worth mentioning to John. I'll call him."

"Okay," I said, feeling a little hopeful.

7


	78. Wrestling mania

Adam went to a nice restaurant for supper. Sort of a steakhouse, where they cook your food in front of you. He ordered a steak,

well-done, and I asked for a baked potato with bacon, and a salad.

I surprised myself by eating everything, even the salad, which was enormous, and filled with cheese, eggs, and vegetables.

It was pretty loud in the restaurant, because the people who were watching the guy doing the cooking kept calling out to him, and

he would call something back. So Adam and I didn't talk much during the meal.

"That was neat," I said, as Adam and I walked out to the parking lot. "Watching him cook like that in front of everybody."

"It was good to see you have an appetite," Adam said.

After that, we went to the Cattlemen's Association meeting, which was being held at a brick building, and had pictures everywhere. Lots of them

were old photos, black and white, of ranchers and their cattle, or ranchers with awards.

I looked at the pictures for awhile, until more men started arriving, and then I went to stand beside Adam, while he talked. After awhile, they

all assembled at one long table, and discussed their business. Some of it I didn't understand very well, but I tried to pay attention. Two ladies,

who were really elderly, served pie and coffee to all the men, pulling a tray around. When the lady that appeared to be the oldest

paused beside my chair, she asked, "What would you like, sweetheart? Pecan pie or apple?"

"No, thank you."

"You don't want any pie?" she asked.

"No, ma'm."

"Well, would you like something to drink? Tea or lemonade?"

"Lemonade's good. Thank you."

She handed me the glass, and then pushed on with her cart full of pie. I watched as she tried to steer the cart back into

what I supposed was the kitchen, and the wheel kept catching on the door. I began to feel sorry for her. I got up and went over

to where she was, and reached down to turn the wheel straight.

"Now it should go," I told her.

"Thank you," she said, and pulled her cart into the kitchen.

I went back to my seat beside Adam. He gave me a half-smile.

There was more talking. More voting. And then, even after the meeting was over, there was still talking going on. I could tell that

Adam was ready to go, but he kept getting caught by some of the older men there, and he would stop, and listen, and then talk some

more.

Finally, we were done, and walking back out to the truck. The sky was lit up with stars.

Once in the truck, Adam said, "Not very interesting for you, I know."

"I didn't mind," I said, and I meant it.

I looked at him, and in the parking lot lights I could see his face clearly. "I like spending time with you."

He looked at me, a little surprised, I thought.

"I like spendin' time with you, too," he said. "I don't think we've done enough of it the last few months."

"No," I said, in agreement.

He started the engine, and pulled out of the parking lot.

"I guess the Cattlemen's Association is pretty important, huh?" I asked.

"I think it is. If we don't get more younger ranchers involved, though, then it might fail."

After a few minutes of quiet, he said, "I saw what you did for Mrs. Baird, helping her with her cart. That was nice."

Adam is pretty sparing with his praise sometimes, so when he does hand it out, it really means something.

"She seemed like a nice lady," I said.

"Yeah. She is."

He cleared his throat a little, and said, "We need to discuss some things."

I worked up my nerve, and asked, "I guess I'm not going to be doing any driving anytime soon, huh?"

"No. You're not."

"Can I finish my night class, though?" I asked.

"You can finish. One of us will drive you and then pick you up."

"Am I going to be able to get a job this summer?" I asked.

"We'll have to see how things go," he said, and I had to be content with that.

"School, church, chores, and homework. That's pretty much it for you for awhile," he said.

I wasn't surprised. I'd known when he said, 'grounded indefinitely' to me on the phone what it had meant.

"No attitude about the grounding, either," he went on. "Otherwise, I'll have to get tougher."

I gave him a sideways glance in the dark truck cab. I wasn't sure just what 'tougher' meant, but I knew I didn't want

to find out. "Okay," I said, subdued.

"I don't want there to be any more big secrets between us," Adam said. "I know there's going to be things that you don't want to tell

me, typical girl things and all of that. I understand that. But I mean important things. Things that are life-changing, or that have the potential

to be dangerous for you. Things like that, I want to hear about from you, right off. No more hidin' things from me."

I was taking in everything that he'd said, when he asked, "Harlie? You understand me?"

"Yes," I said.

"Alright, well, I mean it. This whole debacle could have been avoided, if you'd told me from the beginning, about her showing up. Some of it's not

your fault at all. But if you'd told me right out of the gate, well it might have gone better," he said.

I bit at my lip, and felt the tears, easily provoked, rise to the surface. I tried to cry quietly, but I know he could tell.

"I'm glad you shared that stuff with me earlier, about her drinking, and how you rode with her. It shows that you're

taking all of this seriously," he added.

"Okay," I managed.

"I want to make sure you understand, because if something major happens, ever, and I don't hear about it from you, or you

lie to me about it, then the conversation we have is going to be entirely different than this one," he said, his voice stern.

Wow. I felt that threat, or whatever it was, down to my toes.

"I understand," I said, feeling miserable. This was the worst scolding that I'd gotten from Adam in I didn't how long.

"Alright," he said, and then he was quiet.

I cried silently, or as silently as I was able to, swiping at my face every couple of minutes.

"You're a good kid," he said. "I see it in the things you do. The way you treat people. Like what you did tonight for Mrs. Baird. Being

truthful and having people be able to trust in you is important, too. Real important."

"Yes, sir," I said, not clearly.

After that, it was quiet until we turned into our own driveway. I had stopped crying and sniffling, and I was feeling tired and drained.

I just wanted to go upstairs and crawl into my bed.

When we went into the house, the living room was quiet, except for Hannah, who was sitting on the couch, holding a wide-awake Isaac.

"Hello, you two," she greeted us, standing up to give Adam a quick hug.

"What's this guy doing up?" Adam asked her, rubbing Isaac's belly, which made the baby chortle with glee.

"He has his days and nights mixed up again," Hannah said. "How was the meeting?"

"Long," Adam said. He turned to me. "You gonna get a snack?"

"No. I'm still full from supper. I'll go do my shot," I said.

He nodded at me, and Hannah reached her arm out and gave me a squeeze. "Night, sweetie."

"Night," I said.

I looked at Adam, and thought about giving him a hug goodnight. But I was still feeling raw from the talking-to he'd given me. I wasn't mad

and I didn't want him to think I was having an attitude, but I was just hesitant. Adam made the decision for me, when he wrapped an

arm around my shoulders and gave me a quick hug. He released me just as quickly.

"Sleep good," he said.

"Okay. Goodnight."

I did my shot, and went upstairs to my bedroom, pulled on my pajamas, and literally crawled onto the bed, not even getting completely under the blankets.

7

The next morning, I was woke up by the same noises as the day before. Noise in the hallway, footsteps pounding. I peeked at my clock.

6:23 a.m. I covered my head with my quilt and curled back up into my warm cocoon.

Next thing I was aware of, was a light brushing on the bottom of my foot. I jerked it back, but the brushing followed. When I yanked my foot

completely up, I heard laughing. I uncovered my head to see Daniel standing there, his eyes lit up with amusement.

"What are you doing?" I demanded, sitting up.

"Wakin' your behind up," he said. "Time to get moving."

"No school," I reminded him.

"Ah, yes, but chores. Lots of chores."

I tucked my feet up and wrapped my arms around my legs. "I'm going to do the same thing to you tomorrow morning," I told him. "Only I'll

do it at like four a.m. or something. And I'll use something sticky on your feet, like syrup! Or dots of paint-that would be funny!"

"Not funny for you," he denied. "Not when I catch you."

"You wouldn't be able to if I used paint," I said, grinning at him. "Because then you'd be tracking paint all over the house and

be in trouble with Hannah!"

Daniel swooped down and tackled me, capturing my wrists in one hand, and tickling my ribs with the other.

I was hollering and squealing. "Stop! Daniel, quit it!"

"Give it up," he said.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement in the hallway, and a familiar colored green t shirt.

"Guthrie!" I yelled. "Come help me!"

Guthrie came to my rescue, hurling himself on top of Daniel, until we were a massive dogpile on my bed. I slipped out, and the

two of them kept on, wrestling, and hollering.

Once, when Daniel got the upper hand, he pinned Guthrie, and said, "Never goin' to get the best of me, little brother."

"Little brother, huh?" Guthrie hissed, and toppled onto the floor, taking Daniel with him.

There was a loud throat-clearing in the open doorway, and both Daniel and Guthrie stopped to look up from their position on the floor.

"It's all fun and games until somebody loses an eye," Brian said dryly.

"Just havin' a little fun, Brian," Guthrie said, looking up at Brian with a grin.

"As long as you can both still work today, then go ahead on," Brian said. "Any injuries incurred will not keep chores from

bein' done." He knocked on the wall of my room, as a signal to continue. "Back to it," he said, with a laugh.

As he went on down the hallway, Guthrie and Daniel went back to wrestling.

I stepped over them, grabbing my clothes, and left them to it, going to the bathroom to get dressed.

7

I hurried, getting dressed, so I could catch up with Brian. I found him in the living room, sifting thru papers on the desk.

"What are you doing today?" I asked, hoping he would need me again, so I could be on horseback.

"Stuff around here," he said, without looking up.

"Oh," I said disappointed.

He must have heard that in my tone, because he did look up now. "You did a good job yesterday," he told me. "I don't know

if I would have heard that calf if you hadn't been along."

I hugged his approval to myself, as if it were a hug. "Thanks."

He looked thoughtful. "I tell you what. Let me get some stuff done this morning, and then this afternoon, you and I'll go riding. How's that?"

"Good!" I told him.

I went to eat my breakfast, and ask Hannah what chores she had for me to help with, feeling hopeful. Things were looking up.

7

I put in a full morning helping Hannah in the house, and then I took Isaac, and went up to Clare and Brian's attic apartment, so

that Hannah could have a break and take a nap.

Clare and I took turns holding Isaac, and just had some 'sister' talk. She showed me her high school yearbook, and did my hair

in a French braid.

I asked why she wasn't at work the last couple of days, and she told me that the hospital shift had gotten to be

pretty rough. She'd had to stay late when other people didn't show up for their shift, and one night the previous week hadn't

gotten home until three in the morning.

"Brian wants me to take a little break," she said. "Maybe try to find a nursing job closer to home, so I don't have all that

driving at night to do."

"Brian's pretty protective," I said, and Clare crossed her eyes comically.

"You think so?" she asked, and we both laughed.

Clare didn't bring up my taking off to Tennessee, and I was grateful for that. We could just "be" with each other, with no

underlying tension, and no lectures. I knew that Clare had to have an opinion about what had happened, but she kept it to

herself. Nancy, I felt sure, would not have the same reservations about sharing her opinion with me. And she wasn't

even married to Evan yet.

"Anyway, it will be nice," I told Clare, "having you around here more."

"Thanks, toots," she said.

That afternoon Brian and I did go for a ride. It was a long one, nearly to our east property line. I was wearing a ball cap,

just like Brian was, and I was glorying in the fact that it was so warm.

I left the reins looped over the saddle horn, and spread my arms out wide, like I was flying.

"I'm never going to take the sun for granted again," I said.

"I didn't know you had," he said.

"I didn't know I was, until I saw how cold it is-other places." Something kept me from saying the word 'Tennessee'.

"A shock, huh?" he asked me, as I lowered my arms, and took up the reins again.

"Boy, was it ever."

We rode in companionable silence for a while. I decided to talk to Brian about the one thing that was uppermost

in my mind as a worry.

"Evan won't talk to me," I ventured.

Brian didn't say anything right away. He just kept riding, looking towards the mountains.

"What can I do, Bri?" I asked him.

"Keep tryin'," he advised.

I gave him a discouraged look, and he added, "It's only been a couple of days, peach."

"Yes. But I can tell-he's set on it. On what he told me on the phone."

"What did he tell you on the phone?" Brian asked.

"He said that he's my brother, and that won't change, but that as far as anything else goes with us, to just forget it."

"Hmm," Brian said, looking serious and thoughtful.

"Daniel tried to talk to him, but he acts the same."

"He's entitled to his feelings. Or don't you think that he is?" Brian asked.

"I do. It's just-well, I'm starting to feel like an Amish girl!" I said, in frustration.

"How so?" Brian asked, with a raised eyebrow.

"You know-what they do to somebody that does something wrong? They shun them, Bri."

"And you feel like you're bein' shunned, is that it?"

I nodded, and he looked away from me again, towards the mountains.

"I know it's hurtful," he said. "I can tell it's bothering you. You'll have to figure out whether you want to go at

the situation head on, and try to settle it that way with him, or whether to bide your time, and work at it more

slow."

"Which would you do?" I asked him.

"Well, I don't have much patience, so I'd probably do the head-on thing. But I'd say with somebody like Evan, the slower

way might work better," Brian said.

"Okay," I said.

"Do you want me to talk to him?" Brian asked.

"No. I want to try to fix it myself," I said.

"Okay," Brian said, and I thought he looked a little proud.

After talking it over with him, and hearing his advice, I felt a little better, and I just gave myself permission to enjoy the

ride.

7

That night at supper, over meatloaf and scalloped potatoes, Crane announced that the water pipe at the high school

had been repaired, and that school would be in session as usual tomorrow.

"Man, Crane," Guthrie groaned. "You could have waited until I was done eating to tell me that."

I wouldn't have minded more days at home, either.

It seemed like forever since I'd been at school, and I was trying to remember if I'd had a lot of homework in

my backpack. As soon as I was done eating, I went to the refrigerator to check the dishwashing chore list.

Evan came from the table at the same time, his hands full of dishes, and we nearly collided when I turned too quickly.

"Sorry," I said.

"It's okay," he said, and went on to the sink without even really looking at me. I felt discouraged again.

I went up to my room, and went thru my backpack, sorting out what was homework. I got busy on some English,

and then a science worksheet, when I remembered that the next night would also be my night class.

I got out my notebook for that, looking over what the assigned reading had been.

I was involved in reading 'Jane Eyre' when there was a tap on my half-open door. Adam.

"It's late, Harlie," he said.

"Oh," I said, looking at my little clock. 10:10 p.m. "I didn't know what time it was."

"Put all that up, and get to bed," he told me.

"I've got to go do my shot," I said, pushing the books and papers aside and scrambling off the bed.

He nodded, and I ran down the stairs, to the kitchen, and did my shot. When I came back upstairs, to my room,

Adam was still there, sitting on the edge of my bed. He'd gathered up all my books and papers, and had stacked them in

a neat pile beside my bed.

"I guess I'll take a shower in the morning," I said. "Can you get me up a little earlier than usual?"

"Alright. Did you get all your homework done?"

"Uh huh," I said, going to my dresser and pulling out a pair of pajamas. "Tomorrow night's my class," I reminded him.

"Right," he said. "We'll figure out who your ride is."

"Okay."

Adam got to his feet, pausing beside me, "I'll let you get to bed." He touched the side of my cheek, just for the

briefest moment, and then he dropped his hand. "Sleep good," he said.

"Okay. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

7


	79. Dots on the forehead of a Ford

On the way to school the next morning, Guthrie was lacking his usual cheerful mood.

"I'm tired of stupid school," he complained. "I wish it was summer."

"There's not that much school left," I consoled him. "Just a few more weeks."

Guthrie turned to give me an exaggerated eye roll, and popped a piece of hard candy in his mouth, and I giggled.

"It's sure good to have Daniel home," he said.

"Yeah," I said in agreement.

"How's it feel?" he asked. "Bein' back at home?"

"It feels good," I said. "I'm glad to be home."

"You are? Even with the stiff grounding Adam gave you?"

"Even with that," I said.

"There's somethin' different about you," Guthrie said.

"What?" I asked, looking down at my shirt and jeans, thinking that's what he meant.

"Not that," he dismissed. "I mean somethin' about you. You're calmer-or more settled, or somethin'."

I looked at Guthrie, thinking about what he was saying.

"Really?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"I'm just trying harder. To be a better person," I told him.

"You were never a bad person, Har," Guthrie said, with loyal certainty.

"Thanks, Guth," I said, giving him a grateful smile.

"Maybe Kristin can come over on the weekend," he suggested, in a change of subject.

"That'd be great. Maybe Ford will come home, too."

"Full house," Guthrie said.

I couldn't think of anything better than that.

7

The rest of the school week passed fairly quickly, at least for me. I don't think that Guthrie felt the same.

On Thursday night, Adam pulled me aside to tell me that he'd finally had a return call from John, and that he'd let

the lawyer know about what I'd said, concerning the drinking and driving with Karissa.

"That's good," I said.

It had already been determined that Kristin was going to spend at least one night over the weekend, and on Thursday night

I called Ford's dorm. It took him forever to come to the phone.

"Hey," he said, sounding as though he was really far away, with all the background noise.

"Hi."

"What?" he asked, over crackling on the wire.

"Hi!" I said again, really loudly.

"Hi! What's up? You back at home?" he asked.

"Yes. Daniel's here. Will you come home for the weekend?"

"I've got a lot of studying to do," he said.

"Aw, please Ford? It's been forever since I've seen you."

"I don't know-" he said, but I could tell he was considering it.

"I miss you," I said.

"What? I can hardly hear you."

"I said, 'I MISS YOU!'" I practically yelled into the phone.

"Say that again," he said, still acting as though he hadn't heard me.

"Oh, my gosh," I muttered, and then I heard him laughing.

"Brat," I accused him. "Pretending you didn't hear, just so I'll keep saying nice things!"

"I'll be home," he said. "It'll be late, though."

"I'll wait up," I promised.

"Little girls need to be in bed early," he taunted.

"Humph," I sniffed, pretending to be mad. "I was-and I mean was-going to make a certain brother some delicous lemon bars.

But I guess I don't have to now-"

Ford laughed again, and it made me glad just to hear him. "You'll make the lemon bars," he said, with arrogant

confidence.

"Oh, yeah?" I said.

"Yep. Make it a double batch, while you're at it. Bye, Har."

7

On Friday afternoon, when Guthrie and I got home from school, I changed out of my school clothes, and went down to the

kitchen. I'd run into Hannah upstairs, where she was going thru the hall closet, sorting out sheets and blankets.

"I thought I might make some lemon bars," I told her. "Since Ford's coming tonight."

"Ok. Sure," she said, without looking up from her task. "Good idea."

"Okay. I just wanted to make sure it was alright," I said, and started to walk away.

"Harlie," she said, and I paused, looking back at her.

"This is your home. You can make lemon bars or anything else you want in that kitchen any time you want to." Her voice was strong, and

I nodded.

"You wouldn't have even thought about asking permission to do something like that a few weeks ago. Why now?" she asked me, directly.

I hesitated, thinking out my answer. "I just-I don't know," I said, shrugging a little.

Hannah set down the set of sheets in her hands, and walked the few feet over to me.

She gave me a long look, without saying anything, just looking into my eyes. "You're forgiven," she said. "You don't have

to tiptoe around on eggshells here, afraid of upsetting somebody."

"Do you hear?" she asked me, giving me a little shake.

"Yes, alright," I said, feeling emotional.

"Go make your lemon bars," she said, and smiled at me.

In the kitchen, I stirred up a double batch of lemon bars for Ford, and made some no-bake cookies for Daniel and Guthrie. I gave brief

consideration to making some oatmeal-raisin cookies. Those are Evan's favorite. But I didn't know about that.

Brian came in a few minutes later, going to the sink to wash his hands, and then reaching with one hand into the

cabinet for the first aid kit.

"It smells like a bakery in here," he commented.

I came closer to see what he was doing. Blood was running at a good rate into the sink, from two of his fingers.

"What did you do?" I asked him.

"Bit myself, just to see what it would feel like," he quipped.

"If I talked like that, you'd tell me I was a smart-ass, and to knock it off," I reminded him.

"I probably would," he agreed.

I took the first aid kit from him, and reached inside, taking out the antibiotic crème and the bandaid box. I tore off a

paper towel and dabbed his hand dry, and then squeezed out some of the ointment, and smeared it on his fingers.

Then I took the back off a few bandaids, handing them to him, while he wrapped them around the tips of his fingers.

"There you go," I told him, and started washing my own hands. "Surgery complete."

"Thank you, doctor," he said.

"Have you had a tetanus shot lately?" I asked him, going back to putting the no-bake dough onto the Saran wrap.

"Why?"

"Well, if you bit yourself like you said, you might have infected yourself with rabies or something," I said, and grinned

at him.

"Uh huh," he said, coming closer to me. "Watch it, girl," he warned, and gave me a dig in my ribs with his good hand.

"What all you cookin' up here?" he asked me, looking over the cookies, and bars with interest.

"Just doing some baking."

"For an army, it looks like," he said.

"Here," I said, scooping up a lemon bar, and handing it to him.

"Good," he proclaimed, biting into it.

"I was thinking about making some oatmeal-raisin cookies, too," I said, casually.

"Yeah?"

"They're Evan's favorite," I reminded him.

"Hmm," he said, looking thoughtful.

"Well?" I asked. "Should I?"

Brian reached down with his unbandaged hand and took another lemon bar. "Couldn't hurt," he said.

7

So I made the oatmeal-raisin cookies, and when everything was done baking, I went outside to do my regular chores.

During supper, Hannah started talking about the next day, when Ford would be home, and every McFadden would be present and accounted

for. Add Kristin and Nancy to that, and it would be a crowd.

"We could have a picnic," she suggested, to the table at large. "Or is it still too chilly for that?"

Without thinking, I piped up. "It's not chilly here. It's downright balmy. No cold winds."

Daniel chuckled a little, and said, from his place across the table, "Little sis didn't take to the cold temps."

"Are all those cookies for tomorrow?" Guthrie asked, pointing to the stuff I'd baked that was sitting on the far counter.

"You can have some," I said. "I made no-bake for you and Daniel."

"Oatmeal-raisin too, right, peach?" Brian spoke up.

"Uh huh," I said.

"How about that, Evan?" Brian went on.

Evan looked up from buttering his third roll. "Huh?" he asked, obviously not following the conversation.

"Harlie made oatmeal-raisin cookies," Brian went on. "Because she knows you like 'em."

I heard something in Brian's tone of voice. I was fairly certain that Evan would hear it, too. It was sort of a controlled message.

"Yeah?'" Evan asked and his glance flickered my direction. "Thanks. You didn't have to."

I didn't know what to say to that, so I didn't say anything at all.

After supper, and a shower, and in my pajamas, I took my copy of 'Jane Eyre', and went out to the porch swing.

I could smell the lilacs to the side of the porch.

After awhile, the screen door opened, and Adam came out, a glass of sweet tea in his hand.

"Can I sit with you?" he asked me, and I scooted over to make room.

"Sure."

"What're you reading?" he asked me, tipping the book up so he could read the title. "Jane Eyre, huh?"

"For the night class."

"How's your grade in there?" he asked.

"A high B right now."

"That's good."

We swung in quiet for a few minutes.

"That was nice. You makin' all those cookies for your brothers," he said.

"I'll make some molasses ones for you soon," I told him. "We didn't have everything to make them."

Adam gave me a half-smile. "That was just me saying 'good job' to you." he said. "It wasn't a hint for you to make cookies

for me."

"Oh," I said, and gave him a half-smile back.

"Not that I'll complain if you do decide to make me some," he said, and elbowed me in the ribs.

When it began to get dusky outside, Adam said he was going in. "You coming?" he asked me.

"I'm going to wait for Ford," I said.

"I thought he was goin' to be pretty late," Adam said.

"That's what he said."

"But you're gonna wait up for him, huh?" Adam asked, pausing at the screen door.

I nodded, and Adam smiled a little.

"It's gonna be darn nice, havin' all my kids under the same roof again," he said. When he'd gone inside, I sat there

alone, watching the stars, and waiting for Ford.

7

Eventually, though I hated to admit it, I got a little chilled in the night air. I slipped inside and grabbed a blanket

off of the couch and went back out, wrapping it around myself, and curling back up in the porch swing.

I saw a vehicle turning into the end of our driveway, the headlights coming closer. When it had stopped, and parked,

I was going to stand up, and get ready to ambush Ford as he came up the sidewalk. Then I looked closer in the near-darkness,

lit only by the single yard light. It wasn't Ford. It was Evan, home from a date with Nancy most likely.

I stayed where I was, huddled under my blanket. It was too late for me to try to escape inside to avoid him seeing me.

Besides, I had every right to sit on my own front porch, I told myself, feeling defensive. Still though, even knowing that to be

true, I still felt my stomach lurch with nerves.

Evan came up the front walk, and then took the steps. He was at the door, opening it, and I thought that I'd managed

to go undetected.

Then he turned and saw me. "What are you doin' out here?" he asked.

I supposed I should be grateful for that. It was the first time that he had actually talked to me on his own, since I'd been home.

The other couple of times, was only to give a one-word answer when I'd said 'good morning', or apologized for bumping into him. Or a

terse comment about how I hadn't needed to make the cookies that he liked.

"I'm waiting for Ford," I said.

"Oh."

When it seemed as though he was going to go on inside without saying any more, I gathered my courage.

"The cookies are still out. They're on the kitchen table."

When he was silent, I added lamely, "If you wanted some, I mean."

"Cookies don't fix what happened, Harlie," he said, shortly.

I winced at his tone. "I know that."

"Just let it go," he said then. "Stop tryin' to work me."

"I'm not!" I protested. "That's not it at all! I just want you to know that I understand what I did! And that I'm sorry."

I heard him sigh. "Okay. I forgive you," he said, sounding tired.

My heart leaped a little, in hope, and I pushed off the blanket, sitting up in the porch swing.

"For real?" I asked.

"Yeah. Sure."

A little warning bell went off in my head. There was something about his voice...something not quite all there.

"So, everything's alright?" I asked nervously.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked.

"We can talk and stuff, and hang out together. Like before," I said.

"I said I forgive you," he said then. "I didn't say we were gonna hang out."

I sat there, shocked in silence. I couldn't believe he was being this way.

"Wow, Ev," I said, feeling wounded.

"I don't know what you expect, Harlie. You think an 'I'm sorry', and some cookies takes care of everything? Well, it

doesn't," he said.

I wanted to yell at him. Throw something at him. Tell him he was being a jerk, of the worse possible kind. Instead, I sank

back in the porch swing, biting at my lip to keep from doing any of that stuff.

I tucked the blanket back up around my neck. "Okay," I said, super quietly.

He waited a moment longer, obviously expecting me to argue or lose my temper.

When I didn't, he went inside, letting the screen door shut softly.

7

I found that I was shaking after Evan went inside. I was caught somewhere between sadness and out-and-out rage. I thought

if I had the chance, and some of those rotten apples from last year, that I could make a human dart board out of him. Or a human

apple board, rather. Only, of course, if I had somebody to run interference and save me, when he charged after me, intent

on murder. I huddled under the blanket to wait for Ford, thinking that I sometimes had the retaliation aspirations of an eight year old.

7

Coming out of the bathroom the next morning, I met up with Guthrie, who was pulling on his boots as he walked.

"Ford's home," he informed me.

"I know. I waited up for him last night."

"He's still sleepin'." Guthrie's eyes lit up in mischief. "Wanna go wake him up?"

I knew I shouldn't. I mean, Ford was no doubt exhausted. But it was Saturday morning. The sun was out. Daniel and Ford were

both home. And Guthrie, when his eyes are sparkling like that at the prospect of pranking somebody, well, my self-control wasn't that

strong.

"Okay," I agreed, and we went back down the hall to Guthrie and Evan's bedroom, which is also Ford's room when

he's home. Guthrie opened the door just a crack, and we both looked in. Ford was completely covered by blankets. The only

part of him showing was a couple of toes.

Guthrie motioned me back out into the hallway. "Go get some lipstick," he told me.

"Lipstick? I don't have any lipstick," I whispered.

"Nail polish?" he whispered back. "You got any of that?"

When I nodded, he said, "Go get it."

I went to my bedroom, and rooted thru my drawer, until I found a bottle of pale pink nail polish. When I met Guthrie back in the hallway,

he took the bottle from me, and we went back to where Ford was sleeping, easing the door open.

Guthrie put a finger to his lips, signaling me to stay quiet. He crouched down beside the bed, taking the top off of the bottle. He pulled the

blanket back just the slightest bit, to where part of Ford's head, and part of one hand were showing.

He dabbed nail polish on three of Ford's fingernails, and I pressed a hand to my mouth, trying to keep quiet, and not

laugh. Guthrie stood up, and then looked as though he was thinking. After a moment, he dabbed two big dots of nail polish in the

center of Ford's forehead.

Ford stirred, moving around, and Guthrie stepped back quickly, handing the bottle off to me.

I hid it behind my back, as Ford opened his eyes. "Hey," he said, sounding groggy.

"Morning," Guthrie said, smooth as a bank robber.

Ford raised himself up on his elbows. "What time is it?" he asked.

"Seven-thirty," Guthrie said, looking at the clock on the wall.

"What are you two doin'?" Ford asked.

"We just came in to see if you were awake," Guthrie said glibly.

"Oh," Ford said, and sat up the rest of the way, swinging his legs off the bed.

"Well, we'll see you downstairs for breakfast," Guthrie said, and gave me a push out of the room, closing the door behind

us.

"He's gonna look in the mirror, probably," I said, as we went down the stairs. "And he'll see those spots on his face."

"Naw, he won't," Guthrie predicted. "He won't know they're there until Brian or somebody says somethin' to him."

"You're so bad, Guthrie," I said, but I was giggling when I said it.

"Get rid of that," Guthrie told me, gesturing at the bottle of polish I still had in my hand.

I set the bottle on the piano as we passed by on our way to the kitchen.

Breakfast began rowdy and noisy. I was happy, except for one thing. And that happened to be sitting across the

table from me. I avoided looking at Evan. If he wanted to be that way, then what could I do about it, I thought.

I mean, I wanted to make up with him. But it's not like I was big enough or strong enough to kick his butt and make him.

Everybody was starting to sit down in their places at the table, and Hannah was talking about what food to take

on our big family picnic, when Ford came into the kitchen. He was in jeans and a t shirt and was barefooted, and his

hair was messy, sticking up a little.

And then of course, since no one had seen him yet, other than Guthrie and I, everybody got up again to greet him, passing

him around for hugs. Brian pulled Ford to his chest and gave him a bear hug, and then kept his hands on Ford's shoulders to

look at him.

"You're skinny, boy," he accused. "Look at this-" Then his voice trailed off a little. "What the hell?" he asked, and then

he started to laugh.

"What?" Ford asked, and Daniel crowded in closer. "Nice, Ford," he said, with a snicker.

"What?" Ford asked, again.

Daniel shook his head and went back to his seat at the table. "I'm not gonna tell him," he said, and stabbed a stack of

pancakes with his fork.

Guthrie was as cool as a cucumber, or as I said before, cool as a bank robber. He was pouring an inordinate amount

of syrup on his pancakes, and acted as though he had no interest in the conversation. I tried to copy his cool actions.

"Right here," Adam told Ford, and tapped his forehead. "Better take a look in the mirror."

"What?" Ford asked again, for the third time, going towards the living room, to look in the mirror over the piano, I assumed.

Adam sat down at his seat at the table, shooting Guthrie a glance.

"You have too much time on your hands, Guthrie?" Adam asked him.

Guthrie looked up, innocent as an angel. "What?" he asked, spreading his hands.

"Hey!" everybody could hear Ford yelling from the living room. "Guthrie!"

"Why does everybody blame me?" Guthrie asked.

Brian laughed and sat down.

When Ford reappeared at the kitchen doorway, he said, looking grumpy, "Look out, Guthrie."

Guthrie finally gave in to his laughter.

Ford went to wet a dishtowel with water, and began scrubbing at his forehead with it. All he accomplished was to

make his forehead get all red from the rubbing. The spot was still there.

"Ford, honey," Hannah said, "Sit down and eat. Water's not going to take it off."

"Good grief," Ford said, and went to sit in his place at the table.

When Ford reached for the platter that held the pancakes, Evan caught his hand.

Ford took a closer look, and saw the painted fingernails. "Your days are numbered, Guthrie," he warned.

Guthrie pretended to shake in fear. "Oooo," he said.

"I'll help you hold him down, Ford," Daniel offered.

"A guy can't have a little harmless fun around here," Guthrie said, in complaint.

"Oh, it's on, little brother," Ford told him, calmly loading up his plate with bacon and pancakes. "You'd best sleep

with one eye open tonight."

Guthrie just laughed, and reached for another pancake.

7


	80. A B-plus and a Promise

Guthrie left after breakfast to go get Kristin for the day. I helped Hannah and Clare get a bunch of food together, packing it all in

coolers.

Hannah and Clare were talking about how Crane was going to pick Cindy up, and bring her back for the picnic, too. I could tell from the way

they both talked that they liked Cindy, and thought she was a good fit for Crane. I began to think about Crane, and about Evan, too.

Where would we put everybody in the house, when one or both of them got married at some point?

By late morning, everybody, including the extra non-McFaddens, were headed to the creek for a picnic. Blankets, and it took several,

were spread under the shade of trees, and a game of horseshoes ensued. Kristin and Guthrie and I went to dig up the old canoe, taking it

for a float, and all three of us ended up wet pretty quickly.

When we trudged back up to where the rest of the family was, Crane gave us all a raised eyebrow look.

"Did you go out in the canoe?" he asked.

"Yeah," Guthrie said, with a laugh.

"You knew that there's holes in it, and it wouldn't stay afloat," Crane said.

"That was part of the fun," Guthrie said, and flopped down on a blanket, tugging Kristin down beside him.

I wanted a chance to have the sun dry my wet jeans, so I went to sit, cross-legged, and watch while Daniel and

Ford, Brian and Adam played horseshoes.

Crane and Cindy were sitting on one of the blankets, talking to Hannah and Clare. I didn't know where Evan and Nancy

had gotten to. Probably off making out somewhere, I thought, and then was surprised at myself for being so hateful. I mean, if they

were making out, it was their business. They were almost engaged, after all.

We ate our lunch in one huge circle, settled on adjoining blankets. Once lunch was over, a new game of horseshoes was

started. I was sipping at my Styrofoam cup of sweet tea when I felt a poke in my side, and looked up at Nancy.

"Want to go for a walk with me?" she asked.

I wanted to say no, that I did not want to go for a walk with her. She was, I figured, going to jump me about Evan and I's ongoing

situation. But Adam, lying on his back with his head in Hannah's lap, turned to look at me. Hannah was watching and listening, too.

Thinking there was no graceful way to refuse without drawing a bunch of unwanted attention, I got to my feet, taking my unfinished

apple with me.

We'd walked for just a couple of moments when she said, "This is nice. Everybody being together."

"Uh huh," I said, biting into my apple.

"Everybody's sure glad to have Daniel home," she said next.

"Yeah," I agreed.

"It's a long drive from here to Tennessee," she said. Her tone was casual, but I looked at her, feeling suspicious, wondering

what she was getting at.

I took another bite of my apple, and said nothing.

Finally, so suddenly that I was startled, she grabbed hold of my wrist, and stopped, coming to a complete stand-still. Once she

succeeded in pulling me to a stop, too, she put her hands on her hips and faced me down.

"You want to tell me what in heck is the matter with you?" she demanded.

I spit out the two bites of apple that were filling up my mouth. "What?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Harlie," she said. "You avoided me last night, and you're doing it again today. If you're mad at me about

something, then just come out and tell me."

She was making no attempt to be quiet, and I hoped that we were out of earshot of the rest of the family.

"I'm not mad at you," I said.

"Well, it sure seems as though you are."

"I'm not," I denied.

"Then why the cold shoulder?" she asked.

"I figured you were mad at me," I said, in explanation.

"Why would I be?"

"Because of Evan," I said.

Nancy rolled her eyes. "Oh, that."

"Come on," she said, and we started walking again. After a couple of moments, she said, "I'm trying to stay out of it. It's really between

you and him."

"Yeah. But I thought you might have an opinion about what I did to him," I said.

"Well, yeah, I have an opinion about it. But that doesn't mean that I'm gonna take it out on you, or treat you like you've been

treating me," she said.

Ouch. I winced at that, mindful again of just how blunt Nancy could be.

"I'm sorry for not talking to you last night. And today," I told her.

"You could have just got me alone, and asked me straight out. Or told me you didn't want my opinion," she said.

"Okay. I'm sorry," I said again.

"Alright," she said.

We stopped to pick a bunch of wildflowers, both of us rolling up the legs of our jeans. When we were starting the

walk back to where everybody was, I asked her just what her opinion actually was.

She gave me a long look, and then responded in typical Nancy-fashion.

"Well, I think it's mean what you did to him. He felt so bad because he was the one here at home with you, and that's when you

took off. He felt responsible."

"I know," I said glumly. "He doesn't have to feel responsible, though. I was going to do it, no matter what."

"Even if he tells himself that, he still feels responsible. And he's hurt. I mean, his feelings are really hurt, Harlie."

"I know," I said again, feeling miserable. I sighed. "I've tried talking to him. I've tried apologizing. I made him cookies, even. And

he just thinks I was trying to work him, and get around it."

"I'll try talking to him," Nancy said.

"No, don't do that," I said quickly, and she gave me a puzzled look.

"How come?" she asked.

"Because. It's like Daniel said, it's my place to take care of it. Even though he tried to talk to Evan about it. Daniel doesn't know

I know that," I added with a shrug. "Anyway, if it gets fixed with us, it'll be because I did the work for it, and because Evan wants

it fixed."

Nancy gave me a look, and shook her head a little. "You McFaddens," she said. "You're really quite a group, you know that?"

"Maybe you should run from us while you still can," I said, jokingly.

"Not a chance," Nancy said, and looped her arm around my shoulders.

When we all got back to the house, there were some chores to do, and then Guthrie proudly showed everybody his

"find" of the day, from a garage sale in Murphys that morning. A croquet set, with four mallets and all the balls, and the little

wire things you knock the ball through.

"I'm gonna set it up," he said, and ambled off to do just that in the side yard. Daniel and Kristin, Crane and Cindy and I stood

watching him, while Warrior began to pick up the wire things as soon as Guthrie set them down. Prancing off with them in his mouth,

and then dropping it, looking over to see if I was proud of his trick.

"Stop it, you dumb dog," Guthrie hollered.

"Don't call my dog dumb!" I hollered back at him. "That's really intelligent, what he's doing!"

"He's dumb!" Guthrie insisted. "Come and get him, or I'll never get this set up."

"Go get your dog, peanut," Crane said, while he was laughing. "I'll help Guthrie."

I went to get the offending dog, taking him off to the barn, where I put him in one of the stalls.

"I'll let you out in a little while," I promised him.

We played croquet, and pretty much everybody took a turn. Hannah was laughing so hard she kept missing

most of her shots. I was glad to see most of the sad, haggard look was gone from her face.

We ate a simple supper, of leftovers, and snacks, and nearly everybody gathered on the front porch in the late part of the

afternoon, while Daniel played his guitar. When the mosquitos got really bad, we moved inside.

I was tired, and mostly happy when I headed up to bed. The rollaway cot was all set up for Kristin in my room like it always

was when she spent the night. I thought if every weekend could be like this one, full of people, and friends over, then

I just might be able to survive until Adam let me off of my grounding.

7

We made quite a crowd the next morning at church. Cindy wasn't with us, but Marie was, and Nancy and Kristin. We filled

two pews with just us. That afternoon it started to rain, so we stayed inside mostly, playing board games. Ford planned on

going back to college the next morning, and that night after supper and showers, Ford came in and laid on my bed, on his back with his

arms under his head, and I read out of our mother's journal to him. I had already read most of it, but I didn't mind reading it

again. I was laying the opposite way from him, so that my feet were near his face.

When I'd read up to the part where Daniel was born, my voice was getting sort of raspy.

"You can stop there," he said. "We'll read more when I come home again."

"Okay," I said, closing the worn journal. I fluffed up the pillows under my head, and looked up at my ceiling.

"It's so great to have that," Ford said.

"Yeah," I agreed.

Ford was so quiet for awhile that I sat up to look at him, thinking he was asleep.

"I'm awake," he said, opening his eyes when I poked him.

"Okay, cause it'd be super rude to fall asleep when you're supposed to be talking to me," I informed him.

"Yeah?"

"Uh huh. I'll make you smell my feet if you try to sleep," I said, giggling, and poking my bare foot up near

his face.

"Get that out of my face, or I will go to sleep," Ford threatened. "The smell will knock me out."

I laughed, and moved my foot, sitting up, and pulling my legs up.

"You're coming home for the whole summer, right?" I asked him.

"Well, duh. Why wouldn't I?" he asked.

"I was just hoping you weren't going to get a job and stay there this summer," I said.

"Naw. I'm needed here. Roundup and all. I've only got two more weeks, and then I'm done for the year at school."

"Good," I said with satisfaction.

"How's it going?" he asked me then. "Working stuff out with everybody since you got home?"

"It's going alright," I said. "For only a week, I mean. Brian and I are okay, I think."

"What about Adam?" he asked.

"I think alright. He doesn't act like he's angry with me. I mean, he gave me a big punishment, but he talks to me

about other stuff, and he took me out to eat."

"That's good. Adam's fair," Ford said.

"Yeah," I agreed.

I was going to bring Evan up, but I didn't. Mainly because I didn't want to bring Ford into it. At least not yet. And also

because I was tired of talking about Evan. I only had Ford for a little while longer, and I didn't want to ruin my time with him.

The next morning, before Guthrie and I left for school, we said our goodbyes to Ford.

He was standing on the porch with Guthrie and I, and Adam, still in his sweat pants and barefoot. Guthrie gave him a

brief hug, and then went to wait on the bottom step for me to say my goodbye, and Adam followed, talking to Guthrie.

I hung onto Ford so tightly that he groaned a little. "Loosen up a little, Har," he told me.

"No," I said stubbornly. "I don't want to let you go."

"I'll be home in two or three weeks," he reminded me. "And then I'll be around for the whole summer."

"Okay," I said, still hanging on.

"What's the matter?" he said, lowering his voice, to where I was the only one who could hear him.

"I don't know," I said. "I just feel funny about saying goodbye to you."

"You're alright," he said, and pried my arms loose. "You're alright," he said again, firmly.

I looked into his blue eyes, and shrugged.

"You are," he insisted. "Just keep doing what you're doing, and don't do anything dumb."

When I just looked at him, he said, "Nothing dumb. Promise."

"I'm not going to do anything dumb," I told him.

"You'd better not," he said. "I'd hate to have to get tough with you."

That made me smile. "Okay, Ford," I said, doubtfully.

"You think I won't?" he threatened, and doing his best to make a fierce face at me.

"Come on, Har," Guthrie called out. "We're gonna be late."

I gave Ford a last hug, and went down the stairs to walk with Guthrie.

"Have a good day at school," Adam said, just like he did every morning.

7

The Wednesday night of that week signaled the end of my evening English class. Cindy told me that I would

be ending the class with a B-plus.

"Only three points from an A-," she told me, when we were walking out together to the parking lot. "I know that seems

sort of unfair-" she added.

I could tell she felt bad about it, and I said, "No. A B-plus is okay," I told her. "Crane will be happy with that."

"Well, you've done very well, for being only a sophomore in high school," she said. "Have you thought about taking more

college classes this summer?"

"I've thought about it," I said. I didn't want to explain to her that I most likely wouldn't be doing that, since I probably wouldn't

be allowed to drive there. And in the summer, my brothers would all be too busy to drive me to and from a class.

"I'll get you the list of classes that are going to be available this summer," she said. "So you can look them over and decide."

I wondered if I should just speak up and tell her not to bother.

I studied her as we walked. She really was nice.

"I'm not sure if I'm going to be taking any this summer," I said. "I'm grounded from driving, for probably a while, and there's nobody

that would be able to bring me back and forth every single week."

"Oh." She looked thoughtful, but not judgmental. We were waiting for about another five minutes or so when the Jeep

came pulling into the parking lot. And, no big surprise here, Crane was the one driving. It figured that he would take

an opportunity to see Cindy.

He pulled up and stopped, turning off the ignition. He gave us both a smile, and got out.

Cindy smiled back at him, but they didn't kiss hello or anything like that.

"How was class?" he asked, to both of us in a general way.

"Good," I told him.

"All wrapped up," Cindy said. "I'll be mailing out the grade cards in a few days."

"Cool," Crane said.

She smiled at Crane again. "I've got to get going. My roommate needs a ride home from work." To me she said, "I'll let you

tell Crane how you did."

I told her goodbye, and went to get into the Jeep. They stood together for a few minutes, talking, and then Crane walked her

to her car. When he was in the Jeep, and starting the engine, we both waved as Cindy drove past us.

As we drove, out of Angels Camp, Crane said, "Well, you did it, huh?" and patted my knee.

"Yeah."

"How does it feel to have your first college class under your belt?" he asked.

"It feels good," I said. "Cindy says I'm getting a B-plus."

Crane whistled. "Good job, girl."

I gave him a long look. "You're not disappointed, are you?" I asked him.

He turned to me. "Why would I be disappointed?"

"I might have gotten an A, if I hadn't gotten so wrapped up in the whole Karissa thing," I explained.

"A B-plus for a college class, is good for anybody. Add in that you're two years away from even being college age, and

that makes it more than good. That makes it darn awesome," he said. "I'm really proud of you."

"Thanks," I said, and smiled at him a little. I hesitated and then said, "Cindy asked me if I was going to take any

more classes this summer."

When Crane didn't say anything, I added, "I told her probably not, since I may not be driving, and everybody will be too

busy to take me."

He gave me a look. "I'd say that was the correct answer."

I sighed a little. "Yeah." I could tell by the way that he answered, that he wasn't going to encourage me taking any

summer classes, and maybe being allowed to drive myself there. He was more than likely in agreement with Adam about my

heavy grounding.

"There's no reason you can't do stuff on your own this summer," Crane said. "You can ask Cindy about some of the

reading that's assigned in the next class, and get those books from the library. Have Ford help get you acquainted with geometry.

There's lots of things you can do on your own to prepare."

I could tell he wanted me to be positive about his suggestions, so I obligingly said, "Okay. I'll do the reading. I'm not

sure about the geometry part, though. Just the word geometry gives me the heebee jeebies."

"Ford can help you. It's what he's good at," Crane said.

I nodded, and leaned my head back a little, suddenly tired.

When we got home, Daniel was sitting on the front porch swing in the beginnings of dusk, guitar in hand.

"Hey," he greeted both of us.

"How's our college gal?" he asked Crane then.

"She's doing great. B-plus on her first class," Crane said, sounding proud.

Daniel whistled. "I knew you could do it, squirt."

"Thanks," I said.

Then it seemed to me as if Crane and Daniel exchanged an unspoken message between them. Crane gave me

a pat on the back, and said, "I'll let you two talk for awhile," and went inside, letting the screen door flap shut.

I looked at Daniel, and he was leaning his guitar against the porch railing in front of him.

"What's going on?" I asked, feeling a pit begin in my stomach.

"Come sit with me," Daniel said, patting the spot beside him in the swing.

"You're leaving," I said, with a heavy sigh. I knew it instinctively.

"Come on," Daniel said, and held out an arm to beckon me over.

I went to sink down heavily beside him in the swing. I could already feel my emotions running rampant.

He put his arm around my shoulders. "I've gotta get back," he said.

"I know," I said, in resignation, and sighed again.

"I'll be back in a month, though. For the summer."

I turned my head to look at him. "For the whole summer?" I specified.

"The whole summer," he promised.

"Okay," I said quietly. "When are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow morning. Early."

"In the morning?" I asked him incredulously. "You could have given a person some notice, you know."

"I didn't really decide until today. I talked to Red. And then I talked to Crane. And then I talked to Adam. They say

I'm needed here this summer, so I'm comin' home."

"What about your gig at the Palamino Club?" I asked.

"We only signed on until the end of the month, anyway. The run was about up," Daniel said.

"What will you do when the summer's over?" I asked.

"I'm gonna work on some songs this summer. We'll see how things go."

"But you'll go back after the summer?" I asked insistently. "To Nashville?"

"More than likely, I will."

I nodded. "Okay."

"I'm leavin' real early. Four or four-thirty in the mornin'. So I thought I'd say my goodbyes to everybody tonight," he said.

I gave him a serious look. "I hate to think of you driving all that way alone."

Daniel leaned over and kissed the top of my head. "Thanks. That's sweet."

"Well, I mean it," I said. "Now that I know how horrible it is-well I just hate it that you have to do it

by yourself."

Daniel squeezed my shoulders. "I'll be fine."

"I'm going to be worried every minute," I went on.

"Listen to you carry on," he said, sounding amused.

"Well, I will be. Will you call when you stop at a motel for the night?" I asked.

"I will, unless I drive straight thru."

I sat straight up, and away from him. "Daniel, please don't!"

"It's alright, squirt-" he began.

"No! It's not alright! It's a terrible trip-it's long and you'll get too tired. You might fall asleep and have

an accident or something! Promise me you won't!"

For a moment or two Daniel was quiet, and then he said, "I promise."

"Okay," I said, and relaxed a little, leaning back again.

"Now you promise me something," he said.

"What?"

"Promise to keep doin' what you're doin'."

"What do you mean?" I asked him, taking his loose hand in mine, and rubbing my fingers over his knuckles.

"You know what I mean," he said.

"Yes. You mean behave myself. Right?"

"Right. Keep talkin', and sharing how you're feeling with everybody. If something's bothering you, then speak up.

And no lying," Daniel said.

I leaned my head back against his arm. "I promise to keep trying," I said, still rubbing his hand.

"Okay," he said, and then we sat, not talking anymore, and watched the stars begin to come out.

7


	81. The battle is on

The end of the school year was definitely close. Even without looking at the calendar to see that it was May,

it would have been obvious in the way the kids were acting crazy, and the way the teachers all looked as though they wanted to just scream.

Since I was limited on what I could do with my time, being grounded as I was, I spent a lot of time on school work, just

as most other kids were doing less work. Therefore, I knew I was going to end the school year on a high note, academically, I mean.

Besides homework, I kept on playing the piano. Nearly every day, at some point, I sat down and began to play something.

Things were no different, no better, with the Evan situation. I didn't think they were any worse, really. It was the same

as it had been. Since the evening that he had actually had a conversation with me on the front porch, when he'd been so

horrible, at least horrible in my opinion, he hadn't talked to me again.

I mean nothing. Nada. Zip. I'd been home for almost three weeks from Daniel's. Well, two and a half weeks. And

Evan was still acting as though I wasn't even a blip on his radar. He wasn't mean, or openly rude. He just plain, out and out didn't talk

to me. He acted as though I wasn't even there, even if we were the only two people in the room together.

That had actually happened one evening. I'd been in the kitchen, giving myself my shot, when he'd come in, and

went to the refrigerator. Then he'd went to the cabinet and taken down a glass, pouring milk, and then putting the milk away again.

And then he left the kitchen, all without saying a word. Or acting as though he even saw me.

There were times I was almost angry about it. Those were the moments that I thought, well fine, if he wanted to

be like that, then okay. I would swear to myself that I wouldn't try to talk to him. That I'd quit watching him covertly to

see if he was looking at me. I'd just carry on with my life, with six brothers instead of seven.

Then reality would crash in again, and I'd remember that I didn't want any of those things. I wanted to talk to Evan.

I wanted to hang out with him. I wanted to be close again with him. Be friends. Be able to talk to him about stuff.

I wanted to have seven brothers. Not six.

7

I was at my wits end about the whole thing, though. I couldn't think of what else I could do. I didn't want to go

whining to anybody else about it. I thought that I would try again to talk to him. It took me two days to work up my nerve.

The next morning, I timed it so that I would catch him coming out of his bedroom. I got up early just to accomplish that.

I tried to look casual about it, though. When I heard his bedroom door open and then close, I came out of my open

door, toothbrush in hand, so that it would look as though I was going to brush my teeth, and not as though I was waiting to

ambush him.

I leaned against the hallway wall, biting at my lip as he came down the hallway.

"Hi, Evan," I said, working up all my nerve.

"Hey," he said, and went right on past me, heading for the stairs.

"Evan," I said, as he kept walking.

He paused at the top of the stairs, his hand on the bannister, to look back at me. "What?" he asked, sounding abrupt.

"I was wondering if we could talk sometime," I said, and I could hear the quaver in my voice. I hoped he couldn't hear it.

"About?" he asked, sounding even more curt.

"Just stuff," I said lamely. "It doesn't matter what, really. Whatever you want to talk about."

Evan gave me a long look. I mean, a long, long look.

"How come?" he asked then.

"What?" I asked, blinking a little, confused as to what he meant by that.

Evan sighed, in irritation. "How come it's such a big deal to you that we talk?"

I stared at him for a moment. "Well, because," I said, sort of vaguely. Then I decided to just to lay it on the line. "I miss you, Ev."

For a moment, and just for a moment, I thought I saw something in his eyes. Something that gave me hope.

But hope was crushed, because whatever it was that I'd seen in his eyes was gone just as quickly as it had appeared.

When he did speak, his voice wasn't mean. It was just matter-of-fact.

"Summer's almost here. You'll have plenty of people to talk to."

I knew he was referring to the fact that both Ford and Daniel would be home for the summer.

"I know that," I said. "But they're them. And you're you."

He looked away for a moment. "I've got to get going. I've got a lot to do."

"How long are you going to punish me for what I did?" I asked him, raising my voice.

He looked back at me. "I'm not tryin' to punish you, Harlie."

"Yeah?" I accused, in disbelief. "It sure seems that way."

"Well, that's not it." He sighed. "I told you that I forgive you."

"That was almost two weeks ago, and you haven't spoken to me since!" I accused.

"I have nothin' to say," he stated.

"To me!" I said, nearly hollering. "You have plenty to say to everybody else! It's just me you give the silent

treatment to!"

"Stop hollering," he said.

For a moment, I felt hopeful. He'd told me to stop hollering. Maybe if I kept on, he would get mad enough to

tell me to knock it off, and start acting like my big brother again. And then we could work thru everything.

"Why should I stop?" I said, still with a raised voice. "At least we're talking to each other!"

"I'm talking. You're yelling. And, I'm done." And, with that as a parting comment, he proceeded down the stairs.

I watched him go, and I know my mouth was still hanging open, in shock nearly. Again, I pictured

those rotten apples. And there, in my mind, was me, firing them at Evan so fast that he was covered in apple juice

and pieces.

7

On Thursday night of that week, Adam told me that we had a meeting the next morning at the courthouse.

"At the courthouse?" I asked, feeling frightened. "Why? Is this the hearing?"

"No. A meeting with the two lawyers. And Karissa, too. And the judge. Informal."

"But what about? I mean, why do we all have to meet?" I asked, feeling anxious, and twisting my hands together

nervously.

Adam glanced at my hands, and gave me a sympathetic look. "Come here," he said, and leaned against the

kitchen counter, pulling me over to stand directly in front of him, and looping his hands together behind my head.

"It's a meeting to discuss where we're at in the process," he said. "Talk about the children's service report

about you and Guthrie, and all of that."

"That was ages ago," I protested.

"Yeah," he said in agreement. "The courts don't get in a rush about most things."

"I know, but this borders on ridiculous," I said, without thinking, and Adam smiled a little.

"I have to agree," he said.

"It's just gone on so long, Adam," I said, feeling frustrated.

"I know, baby."

I thought for a moment. "Well, what about school, though?" I asked him.

"You'll miss most of the morning. You should be back by lunchtime."

"Okay." I sighed heavily.

"I know it's tough, but try not to worry too much," he advised. "John thinks that we may be able to wrap things up, if

it goes the way that he thinks it will."

"Who all's going? Just you and me? Or can Brian come, too?" I asked.

"Brian will come."

"And Hannah?" I asked him.

He gave me a long look, his eyes steady on my face. "Do you want her to come?"

I nodded.

"Well, we'll ask her then," he said.

"Okay." I thought for a minute. "Do you think it would be alright if I asked to talk to the judge alone?"

"I don't know what the protocol for that is," he said. "Or whether you'd be able to, or not. Why? Is it something

you want to do?"

"I think I'd like to," I said.

"Well, we can ask John about it," Adam said.

I thought how great he was, that he didn't even ask me what I would say to the judge if I got the opportunity.

I leaned in, and wrapped my arms around his waist.

"I want you to know something," I said, looking up into his tanned face.

"I'm ready," he said, with a half-grin.

"The life you've given me here, you and Brian and Crane, well, it's the best life growing up that I could have ever

had."

"I'm glad you feel that way," he said quietly.

"I mean, even with more money, and all the opportunities that Karissa's talked about wanting to do for me? All of that

stuff doesn't really matter. There's no comparing of it, with what you've done for me. Growing up here

and being able to be outside, and have all the animals, and learn about ranching. And all of you teaching me the things

you have. They're all things that are really important. And they're things she could never have done for me."

Adam blinked a few times, and then he sighed. "You're gonna make me start blubbering, sugar."

"Am I?" I asked, surprised.

"If you keep on, you will," he said.

"I just wanted you to know. That I'm happy and satisfied with what you've been able to give me," I said, finishing what I wanted to

say.

Adam pulled me tight against his chest, and we stood there like that, neither of us saying anything, for

several long minutes.

"Oh, baby girl," he said, and kissed the top of my head. He straightened up, and held me out a little,

so he could look at me.

"Thank you for tellin' me that," he said.

I remembered when Guthrie had told me, months ago, that I should tell Adam, and Brian, too, that I thought what

they'd provided and done for me was fine. That Karissa's expensive gifts and promises of travel didn't mean that much to me. I

saw now that Guthrie had been right.

"I should have told you sooner," I said. "I want to tell Brian, too."

"He'll appreciate it," Adam said.

I nodded.

Adam rubbed my back. "Alright. Well, we'll handle tomorrow like champs, right?"

"Right," I said, trying to sound certain.

7

I drank warm milk before bed, hoping that it would help me to sleep. Now that I knew what was looming ahead the next morning,

I was afraid I wouldn't be able to sleep at all.

I was in the kitchen, warming milk in a pan on the stove. Guthrie was sitting on the kitchen counter, eating cookies and

talking to me about the next day.

"I wish I could go," he said.

"Maybe you can," I said, thinking how much I would like that, too.

As if on cue, Adam came into the kitchen, setting his cup in the sink.

"Big pow wow goin' on in here?" he asked us.

"We're talking about tomorrow," I told him.

"Aw," he said, with a nod.

"We wanted to ask you somethin'," Guthrie spoke up.

Adam leaned against the counter opposite Guthrie, and crossed his arms.

"What's up?" he asked, as Evan came into the kitchen, and went to open the refrigerator.

"I was thinkin' that I'd like to go tomorrow, too," Guthrie said.

I turned from the stove, so that I was facing them both. "And I'd like it if he did go," I said.

Adam regarded us both seriously for a long moment. To Guthrie, he said, "I understand you want to go. And I understand why. It's

in your nature to look out for Harlie. And, sugar, I know it helps to have Guthrie with you. But, I think you ought to

go on to school, Guth."

"How come?" Guthrie asked.

"Isn't there some finals goin' on?" Adam pointed out.

"Yeah," Guthrie admitted. "But I can make 'em up. Just like Har's goin' to do."

"You could," Adam agreed. "But I think we should keep it low-key. Or as much as we can. And, I don't know

that you'd be allowed in this meeting, anyway. When it's time for the actual hearing, if there is one, then you can come with, if you want to."

I could read the disappointment on Guthrie's face, and I was feeling that way, too. But we exchanged glances, and I

knew that he wasn't going to argue with Adam. And neither was I.

"Okay," Guthrie said. "But this whole thing-it sucks," he said, with disgust. "It really sucks."

"I agree," Adam said. He stepped over, and put his hand on the back of Guthrie's head affectionately. Then he

gave us both a tired smile, and went back out towards the living room.

I realized then that Evan was still standing there, in front of the open refrigerator, and that he'd heard the conversation.

Oh well, I told myself, feeling emotional, it's not as though he gave a hoot anyway. I turned back to my task of

heating up the milk, as Evan went to get a plate from the cabinet, and a fork from the drawer.

"I wonder if that bitch from social services is gonna be there," Guthrie said. "You know, the one that came to talk to

us?"

I turned off the heat under the pan. "I hope not," I said, looking at Guthrie in alarm. "Do you think she might be?"

I could tell that Guthrie was sorry he'd mentioned it at all, and caused me to worry.

"Naw," he said. "Probably not. She most likely just sent in her report."

"She was pretty horrible," I said, thinking back to that day.

"Nothin' pretty about her," Guthrie said, jokingly. "Just plain horrible, that was her."

I poured my hot milk into a cup, and giggled a little. "You're bad, Guth," I told him.

"Hey, I call it like I see it," he said.

Evan, who'd taken out the remaining pie from the refrigerator, was cutting a piece, and scooping it onto the plate.

"Guess I'll go to bed and try to sleep," I said.

"Well, find me at lunch tomorrow at school, and let me know how it went," Guthrie told me.

"I will," I promised. "Night," I told him, and headed towards the living room, carrying my hot drink.

"Night," Guthrie answered.

I was already past Evan, when he said, "Hey," to me.

I turned to look back at him, startled.

"I hope the meeting goes good," he told me, quietly.

I widened my eyes at him. I was actually shocked that he'd made an attempt to talk to me, and that

he wished the meeting well.

I should have been happy about it. I should have said, 'Thank you', politely, and gone on my way. But, truthfully, my

temper flared. He had a lot of nerve, I thought. After all the times I'd tried to talk to him, well, he didn't need to think I'd just

accept his statement, and be grateful for it.

"Maybe it won't go good," I said, and now Evan was the one who looked startled.

"What are you talkin' about, Har?" Guthrie asked, sounding as if he didn't understand what had made me

say such a thing.

"Maybe it won't go good," I said again. "Maybe they'll decide that I need to go live with stupid Karissa. That would

suit you fine, wouldn't it, Evan?"

Evan was staring at me, his expression shocked. Guthrie hopped down from the counter, and came over to

my side. He put a hand on my arm. "Har-" he began.

I felt bad for Guthrie. He was looking all worried at my attitude and my words. But a demon just came over me,

and took over my mouth.

Evan had recovered his speech ability. "No. It wouldn't suit me fine, Harlie," he said, sounding angry.

"Well, why not?" I said, raising my voice to a level seven, at least. "Then I wouldn't be around here,

and you wouldn't have to be worried about me trying to talk to you!"

"Harlie-" Evan began, in a warning tone.

"Because I know what a huge bother it is to you!" I went on. "Having to try to find new ways to avoid me!"

My raised voice had alerted family in the next room, and Brian appeared at the doorway, Hannah behind him.

"What's goin' on?" Brian demanded.

"Not a damn thing," Evan growled, and put the pie pan back into the refrigerator, and shut the door, a little too

hard. He took his plate, with the piece of apple pie on it, and started to stalk past me.

Since the doorway was full of Brian, and Hannah, he paused right in front of me.

"You need to be straightened out, girl," he told me, sounding grim.

"Yeah?" I challenged. "Well, it won't be you doing it, will it? Because in order for that to happen, you'd have

to be my brother! My real brother! Not some fake one!"

"Just forget it," he said, angrily, and then he said, "Excuse me," to Hannah, as he squeezed past her in the

doorway.

As soon as he was gone, and I was looking at the three stunned faces of Guthrie, Brian and Hannah, I promptly

burst into tears.

7


	82. Nearly there

I cried so much that I was shaking. Guthrie, who's never been good with my tears, hovered at my elbow as if he

didn't know what to do to help.

Hannah was asking me what was wrong, what had happened between me and Evan. I shook my head, and kept crying.

"They had a go-round," Guthrie told her.

Brian, who'd stood there, not saying anything at first, finally intervened.

"Go on up and get ready for bed," he told me, sounding curt.

"We need to settle this between them," Hannah was saying.

"Not tonight," Brian said, and Hannah sighed a little.

"Well, alright, but I'm going to talk to Evan," Hannah said, looking determined.

"No, Hannah," I said, between the crying. "He didn't start it. I did. It was my fault."

Hannah looked surprised at that. "Alright," she said, in a soft voice. She patted me on the arm.

"Go on up," Brian told me again, nodding towards the back stairs.

I turned and went up the stairs, carrying my cup of hot milk, and still crying. I felt bone-weary all of a sudden.

At the top of the stairs, I saw Evan, disappearing into the bathroom, a towel over his shoulder.

"I wish I had an apple to throw at him," I said, out loud to myself. The way I was feeling, though, I think a baseball would have

been better.

7

I got into my pajamas, still crying. My tears were tapering off just a bit when there was a rapping on my

bedroom door.

"Come in," I said, sitting up, cross-legged on my bed.

Brian opened the door, and came in, closing the door behind him. He stood there, looking at me for a long moment,

and then he came over near to the bed. He had a bottle of Tylenol in his hand, and he set it on my nightstand.

"I figured you might need a couple," he said. "You always seem to get a headache when you cry."

Well, that just set me to going again. I covered my face with my hands, and started to cry anew, my shoulders shaking.

I felt the bed sink a little under his weight, as he sat down.

"Good Lord, Harlie," he said. "What did I say?"

"You know all the little things about me," I said, thru my hands. "You're such a good brother!"

I heard him sigh, and then felt the bed rise as he stood up again. When he came back to sit down, he laid something

in my lap, and even without looking, I could tell it was a box of tissues from my dresser.

"Start reinin' in the tears," he said.

I took some deep breaths, and then lowered my hands from my face.

"Your nose is so red, you look like Rudolph," he said.

"Thanks a lot," I said, taking a couple of Kleenexes from the box, and wiping my face.

"What's goin' on?" he asked me, quietly.

"Evan said something. It just set me off."

"What did he say?" Brian asked.

"He said that he hoped the meeting goes good tomorrow."

Brian looked perplexed, and then he said, with a good degree of sarcasm, "Well, damn, let's throw his butt in jail. He's sure got

some nerve. How dare he say such a thing!"

"Bri," I said, in weak protest, mopping at my face.

"What's wrong with him sayin' that?" Brian asked.

"He doesn't talk to me. He acts as though I'm invisible. He said he's forgiven me, but he acts the same."

"Him wishin' for something good tomorrow doesn't sound as though he thinks you're invisible," Brian pointed out.

"I know, but it just made me so mad," I said. When I looked up at Brian, he was giving the 'eye'. The one that

says without words that I'm making no sense.

I shrugged. "And then I started mouthing off, and saying stuff. Like how he'd be glad if I had to go live with

Karissa."

Brian sighed. "Sometimes," he said, and then stopped talking.

"Sometimes what?" I prompted him.

"Sometimes you're entirely too much like me," he said.

7

At breakfast the next morning, it seemed as though everybody was a little subdued. Or if not subdued, at least

preoccupied. I was definitely both. I was thinking about what it would be like to see Karissa again after all this time.

And dreading it.

It didn't help any to have Evan across the table from me, either. I carefully avoided looking directly at him.

Before breakfast, I'd gone into Hannah and Adam's big closet, where I keep my more dressy clothes, and picked out a blue skirt, and a

off-white blouse.

"You look nice," Hannah told me.

"Thanks."

I gave her a closer look, and saw that she too, looked nice. Dressed in a brown corduroy skirt, and matching vest, and

high brown boots.

Adam was wearing his dress pants, the ones he wears to church, and a button-up western shirt.

When breakfast was over, Guthrie went off to school, reminding me again to hunt him up at lunchtime and let him know

how things had gone at the meeting.

"I will," I promised, setting my plate and glass beside the kitchen sink.

"Want me to do a French braid for you?" Clare offered.

I said yes, and she finger-combed my curls and did a quick braid, fastening the end with a rubber band from our catch-all

drawer in the kitchen. Brian, who was still wearing his chore clothes, said he was going upstairs to change.

I went to the living room and sat down on the couch, to pull on my boots. They were the ones Brian had gotten me, the teal-blue ones.

After that I just sat there for a few minutes, not doing anything. Just sitting. And thinking.

Evan came thru from the kitchen, grabbing a ball cap from the hook by the door. I watched him pull on the cap, one that

said, 'Farmers do it better' on it. He glanced back over at me, and I thought he was going to say something.

But he didn't. He just went out, shutting the door quietly behind him.

When Brian came down the stairs a few minutes later, buttoning up his shirt, he said, "You wearin' those boots?"

I gave a look down at my feet. "Yes. Why?"

"They look as though they're gettin' pretty worn," he observed.

"They're my best boots," I said.

"You might be due for a new pair soon."

I stretched my leg out to give my foot another look. "They're alright. Besides, these are my lucky boots."

"Lucky? How so?" he asked.

"Don't you remember?" I asked him. "These are the boots you bought me last spring, the day you went to get

Clare's engagement ring."

"I remember. How does that make them lucky?" he asked.

"Because. They're special. And whenever I wear them, something good happens. And they even return from the Lost," I said.

"Huh?" he asked.

"The lost," I said, and then realized that I was about to spill my sordid story of the beer party last fall, where I'd lost one of the boots,

and gone home without it, only to have Nancy find it and return it to me. "I lost one once," I said, looking up at him. "It found

its way back."

"Sounds like an interesting story," Brian said, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, it is," I said. "I'll tell it to you sometime. When you're really, really old."

"Hmm," he said, as Adam and Hannah came down the stairs, and we all got ready to leave.

Talking like that only made me think more about Evan, and how he'd kept it quiet about what I'd done that night.

7

We drove to the courthouse in Clare's car, with Brian driving, and Adam in the front seat, and Hannah and I in the

back seat. I was quiet for the most part, and Hannah was, too. We were pulling into the parking lot of the courthouse,

when she leaned over a little, and said, quietly, "Don't underestimate your brothers. And don't underestimate yourself."

I looked at her, and nodded. I thought I knew what she meant.

Walking up the massive number of steps to go inside the courthouse, with Brian beside me, I reached out

and took his hand without saying anything.

He turned to look down at me. "Alright?" he asked me.

"My stomach's doing loop-de-loops," I said honestly.

"Mine, too," he said.

When we went inside, Adam seemed to know where he was going. We went into a conference room, with a long, long table

in it. John was already there, a briefcase opened on the table.

"Hello," he said, getting to his feet and shaking hands with Brian and Adam.

Adam introduced Hannah to him, and then John turned to me.

"Hello, Harlie. How are you?"

"I'm alright. Nervous," I said honestly.

"I understand, but there's really no need to be," he told me, with an easy smile. "I asked you all to come a little early,

so that I could talk to you for a little while. Sit down."

I sat down in the chair that he directed me to, and Adam, Brian and Hannah all sat in chairs beside and across from me.

"Adam told what you shared with him, about the drinking," he said, looking at me. "Can you go over it again, so I can

hear it from your words?"

I looked at Adam, sitting beside me, and then back at the lawyer. "Well, she met me at the high school, and took me to

eat. She drank two or three glasses of wine during the meal. And, after that, she took me back to the school, for my night class."

"What do you remember about it?" he asked. "Did it strike you as odd that she drank that much?"

"A little. She was acting a little strange, so I asked her if she was going to be alright to drive. And she said yes."

"How was the drive back?" he asked.

"I remember being nervous, because she seemed a little off."

"In what way?" he asked.

"Sort of talking strangely, about things. Things that didn't make sense, really. She wanted to take me somewhere else,

even though I told her I had to get back to class."

"Uh huh," he said.

"And then, another time, she drove really far out of town, even though I kept asking her to stop and go back. Sometimes she's a little

scary. She's sort of unpredictable," I said.

"Alright. Thank you, Harlie. " He asked me if I'd like some can of soda or something to drink.

I told him no, and he said, "Well, would you mind waiting out in the hallway, on the bench there, for a few minutes? I'd like

to talk to your brothers and Hannah."

I felt an instinctive flash of fear. What did he have to say to them that he didn't want me to hear?

I looked at Adam, and he nodded at me. "Go on," he told me.

I shot Brian a look, too, and got up to go out of the room, into the hallway. There was a wooden bench there, the old type, that

are really heavy. I sat down, rubbing my hands on my skirt. They were all sweaty from nerves.

It seemed like a long time before the door behind me opened, and John stepped half-way out.

"You can come back in now, Harlie," he said.

I got up and followed him back into the room. Hannah was sitting in the same place as before, and she looked as

if she was upset, and yet trying not to show it. Brian was standing near the window, looking outside, his back to the room, and

Adam was pacing back and forth. He stopped when I came in, and gave me a half-smile, that wasn't convincing at all.

What the heck had happened, I wondered, in alarm.

"Let's sit down," John said, and everybody, including me, went back to their original seats.

"Your aunt would like for you to visit with her," John said. "For an occasional day, and possibly overnight at some point."

I sat there in stunned silence. I looked at Hannah, but she was looking down, twisting with something on her skirt. Brian never

turned away from the window, so I couldn't see his face.

So I looked at Adam. The muscles at the side of his jaw were working back and forth, like they do when he's really angry, or upset.

"You mean now?" I asked John.

"Well, relatively soon. Sort of as a practice run, so that the two of you can get better acquainted. Her lawyer is going to

request that today."

"I don't want to do that," I said immediately.

"Why is it you don't want to, Harlie?" he asked, his voice kind.

"I don't feel comfortable enough with her for that," I said.

"Well, her hope is that you would become more comfortable as time went on."

"I'm not sure I even want to talk to her anymore," I said. "Let alone go and stay with her."

"Explain that to me. Why you don't want a relationship with her. You did at one time, is that correct?" he asked.

"I did," I admitted. "I thought I did. But that was when I thought we could all have a relationship. Well, I mean Guthrie and I

and Karissa. But she didn't want Guthrie. Just me. And then, she was always talking about my father, and saying what a bad person

that he was. And then, like I said, it's sort of unnerving the way that she does things sometimes."

I hesitated, wondering whether to go on or not. "And then she took something that happened at home, an argument, and

made it into something that social services came to talk to Guthrie and I about." I thought about how to express what I wanted

to say. "I think-I feel, that she does like me, but that all of this is more about settling an old score. A way to get back

at my brothers."

John sat back in his swivel chair, lacing his hands together and looking at me thoughtfully.

I heard a sound from across the table. Sort of a soft sound, like somebody trying to clear their throat, but not

quite succeeding.

Hannah looked up, and I could tell she was struggling mightily not to show her distress. She looked at me, and then at

Adam. "I'm sorry. Excuse me," she said, and stood up, leaving the room quickly.

I looked at Adam, and then John, uncertain of what to do next. Brian, who had turned around from the window when Hannah left

the room, came over closer to the table to stand.

Adam reached over and took my hand, squeezing it.

"Can you explain that to me?" John asked. "Why you think it's more of a way to settle things with Adam and Brian, as opposed to

having you with her?"

"It seemed as though she wanted to swing me over to her way of thinking," I said, choosing out my words. "She was talking about the past

with any relationship with me, not really in the present. It was mostly about what happened with them when I was little, and how

they still couldn't do for me what she could."

Adam was running his thumb over my hand, almost as though without knowing it. John was regarding me with a

kind expression, and a smile.

"Fellas, you have a very articulate young lady here," John said, to Adam and Brian.

Adam nodded, but didn't speak.

Brian said, "She's one of a kind," and I thought that his voice sounded sort of funny. Choky. Is that a word? Choky. Well,

his voice sounded funny. Strained.

"Can the judge make me go to spend time with her?" I asked.

"I don't think it will come to that," John said. "What with what you've said about the drinking and driving. But, there's always

a chance of it."

"Well, I think I'm old enough to say what I want to do," I said stoutly, without thinking out how it would sound. I realized

it sounded rude, and I said, "I don't mean to sound disrespectful."

John smiled thru his eyes. "It's alright, Harlie. I'm not taking it that way. Go on."

"I thought at twelve that a kid could decide where they want to live, like in a divorce case. I mean, within the

limits of what a judge considers in best interest, and all of that," I said.

"My goodness," John said, and now he was smiling openly. "Future lawyer here?" he asked Adam and Brian.

"She's been reading some law book from the library," Adam said.

"That book's overdue, by the way," I said, and John actually chuckled out loud.

"You're right, at least partially. The judge does take into affect what the juvenile prefers. As long as there's not a safety

issue or anything of that nature in the home," he said. "And the report from the woman at social services doesn't

substantiate any home issues, which bodes well for us."

"Could I talk to the judge?" I asked. "Personally, I mean?"

"It may not be necessary," he said. "He'll likely ask you some questions, while we're all in the room. Be forewarned, as I told

you earlier, that if she can't win full custody, which is nearly certain, that she'll request liberal visitation with Harlie. Which is

always an option of yours, to end it quickly."

"Meaning what?" Adam asked.

"If we have a brief meeting with Karissa, and her lawyer, and you and Brian would agree to Harlie seeing Karissa

occasionally, then I think she might be persuaded to let this custody suit go by the wayside."

"No," Brian said, without warning, his voice strong.

"Brian," Adam said.

"No," Brian said, standing with his hands in his pockets, and looking furious. "I don't want Harlie to be anywhere around that woman."

"Well, neither do I," Adam said, sounding brusque. "Just listen."

"Of course, you're well within your rights to say no to that," John said, looking at Brian.

"What about the drinking, though?" Brian said. "Harlie's told you about the drinking and driving. That's a safety issue, right?"

"It is. We can bring that up definitely," John said. "That will go a long way with the judge. We'll open with that, and see if we can't persuade them

to buckle under a bit."

"Them buckling under sounds darn good to me," Brian said.

7


	83. Start your engines

John said he would be in the room to talk with Karissa's lawyer. We were welcome to wait in the hallway. So, when

the other lawyer arrived, I knew who he was right away, because he was accompanied by Karissa.

She was, as usual, dressed to near perfection, in a soft yellow dress, and ridiculously high heeled shoes.

She showed no evidence of nervousness, heading straight towards the bench where I was sitting beside Hannah.

"Hello, Hannah," she said.

"Hello, Karissa," Hannah said.

Karissa turned to me. "Hello, sweetheart." This was said with much more warmth.

I considered ignoring her, but I knew that would be really childish, and not be impressive to the lawyers or a judge. Not to

mention that Adam wouldn't like it. As much as I knew he disliked Karissa, he wouldn't approve of me being openly rude

to a person older than myself.

"Hello," I said, trying to make my voice as impersonal as possible.

Karissa doesn't lack nerve, I had to give her credit for that. She sat down in the spot next to me, on the bench, so

that I was sandwiched in between her and Hannah.

"How have you been?" she asked me.

I had to keep my temper right then. I didn't snap something rude, but I did give a sigh, to let her know that I was annoyed.

"I'm fine," I said. Then childishly, I did add, "I couldn't be better."

"I have something for you in my car," she said.

This time I gave her a direct look. "I don't expect any gifts from you," I said tartly.

"Harlie," Hannah remonstrated, in a soft voice. I knew Hannah's mild protest wasn't because she wanted me to accept a gift from Karissa,

but because of the way that I'd answered.

I stood up, and walked down the long corridor, towards the windows at the far end. I stood there, looking out at the traffic

zooming by down below.

"Hey," said a voice near my elbow, and I turned to see Adam standing there.

"Hey," I answered, turning to face him. Thus, I was able to see Karissa, still sitting beside Hannah on the bench, waving her hands around

and talking.

"Poor Hannah," I said. "I just sort of stuck her with Karissa."

Adam turned to look down the corridor, too. "Hannah's alright. She can handle it."

"Yeah."

We stood there until we were called back down to the room with the long table that we'd started out in. I stayed close to Adam,

and to Brian, too, and made it work out so that I was sitting in between the both of them. Karissa and her lawyer were seated

on the opposite side of the table.

I decided that Adam and Brian had been right about John being a sharp lawyer. He wasted no time in coming to the point about

what I'd said about the drinking and driving. He wasn't dramatic about it. He just stated the facts as I'd told him. And then he ventured

into the part about my perception of Karissa's unpredictability and her erratic behavior.

I kept my face focused on a picture on the wall, so that I wouldn't see the expression on Karissa's face. It wasn't that I cared

about her feelings. I just figured she would be erupting with rage.

And I would have been partially correct. It wasn't rage, but it was that fake-sounding confident voice of hers, the one that

could override anybody else's voice. Right now it was over talking her own lawyer, who was trying to hush her.

But she would not be hushed.

As soon as her lawyer began to speak up, she said, "I don't recall that particular evening that Harlie's talking about. But I do often

have a glass of wine with a meal. There's absolutely nothing wrong with that."

"It was more than one glass," I protested, without thinking.

John shook his head at me, and Adam laid a restraining hand on my leg.

"I think Harlie might have misunderstand some of the things that I said or did. I certainly had no intention of

making her feel uncomfortable," Karissa was droning on.

"You're unbelievable," I muttered, under my breath.

Adam leaned over and whispered, low, in my ear. I felt my face turn warm in embarrassment. I looked at

Adam and he nodded at me. I hesitated a moment longer, looking pleading, but he raised an eyebrow at me, and so

I stood up, and went out of the room as quietly as I could, without even looking at anyone else.

I was embarrassed beyond belief. I was angry at myself, too. Why couldn't I keep my mouth shut? Being sent out of the room

like that. Having Adam say those five words, 'Go sit in the hall', well it was humiliating.

I don't think it had been long. Maybe ten minutes or so, when I heard the door behind me opening and then closing, and

then Adam came to stand beside the wooden bench.

"Are you mad at me?" I asked him. "Because I can't keep my mouth shut?"

"I'm not mad. But you can't be in there if you're not in control," he said.

"I'll be quiet," I said, looking up at him. "I promise."

"Alright," he said, and held the door open for me to pass in front of him, back into the room, and we both sat back

down. In the ten or so minutes that I'd been out in the hallway, Karissa had lost some of her starch. She was looking

upset, and irritated at her own lawyer.

"Naturally," John was saying, "This report of drinking and driving, especially the occasions that Harlie was in the vehicle,

are concerning. Would your client be willing to undergo alcohol counseling?"

Before the other lawyer could react, Karissa spoke out. "I certainly will not agree to that. It's absolutely unnecessary."

"The judge might differ with that opinion," John said, calmly putting Karissa in her place.

Wow. It was like watching a tennis match. Back and forth. Back and forth. Except Karissa's lawyer was no match for

ours. John very neatly wrapped everything up by saying, "Of course, even with the counseling that I mentioned, visitation

with her niece is not a given for Ms. Bonner. Harlie has made her wishes known, that she has no desire to reside with her aunt. Even

having the occasional visit isn't something she's currently interested in. And, Mr. Marks, as you're well aware, sixteen is

well past the age where a judge will take the juvenile's wishes into consideration."

"They're not capable of caring for Harlie," Karissa said, with a burst. "They can't give her the life that she deserves."

It took every fiber of control in my arsenal to keep from shouting out, or contradicting her. I pressed my lips together

so tightly that it hurt. A glance at Brian suggested that he was having the same difficulty.

John lifted a file of paper and then let it drift back down. "These papers say otherwise. A report from the Calavaras County

Department of Family Services. Though unconventional, the McFadden family is a proven unit, stable and well able to meet

the needs of both Harlie and her brother, Guthrie."

"That may be what those papers say," Karissa said sharply. "But I'm talking about a far more varied life than what Harlie would

have here. Full of opportunities and a bright future."

I scooted to the edge of my seat. Never before in my life had I ever wanted so badly to scream at someone. Adam put

a hand on the back of my neck. His touch was gentle, but I knew he meant it as, not only a comfort, but also a warning.

John stood up, gathering up all his paperwork, and his briefcase. "We'll see you folks in the judge's chambers," he said, addressing

Karissa and her lawyer. Then he nodded to us, and the four of us stood up as well, and followed him from the room.

"We'll have an audience with the judge after lunch," John said, as the five of us stood in a small circle in the hallway. "Very

informal. We can state our wishes and concerns, and they'll state theirs. The judge will ask some questions, and probably talk to

Harlie a bit, and then we'll be done."

"You think this might do it today?" Brian asked him, hope evident on his face. "Without going on to a formal hearing?"

"That's my hope," John said, not committing.

"But it's possible?" Adam asked, with the same expression on his face that Brian had. Both of them looked so worried, and yet

so hopeful, that I felt my heart squeeze a little.

"It's possible," John said, and then he gave Adam a light slap on the shoulder. "Go. Get some lunch. Plan a celebration."

So we went to lunch, at a fast food place, even though neither Brian or Adam are huge fans of eating

at those places, because that was quicker than a restaurant.

When our hamburgers came, Hannah didn't seem to have much of an appetite, and I knew that I didn't. I was thinking of

what the judge might ask me, and what I'd like to say to him, if I was able to.

"Come on, you two," Adam told us. "Eat. Stop acting as though it's your last meal before you're shot at dawn."

"We're gonna be done with this nonsense today," Brian said, with satisfaction, drinking down the last of his Coke.

"Well, hopefully," Adam said, and I knew that he didn't want me to get my hopes up too high. "Let's not get ahead of

ourselves."

I picked a piece of my hamburger bun off, and ate it. "I wonder," I said, without thinking about it, "what it would be like

to not have this hanging over my head. To not have to worry about it all the time."

I looked up when the table was quiet, to see that all three of them were looking at me, with varied expressions of

concern. Regret. Love.

"Oh, sweetie," Hannah said, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. "How horrible this has been for you!"

I squeezed her hand in return, and said, "I know it's been real bad for all of you, too. I can see how it's worn you

all down."

I thought privately that it seemed as though Adam had aged in the last few months, but I didn't say that.

"And then I did what I did," I said, taking my straw wrapper and folding it into halves, then fourths, keeping my

eyes on it. "Took off to Daniel's, and made it all worse-"

When I looked up again, they were all still watching me, looking somber and contemplative.

"That didn't help any," Adam agreed, but his voice was kind.

"I want to say again," I began slowly, "that I'm so sorry-and if I could, I'd do things differently-"

"It's done," Adam said. "There's no undoing it."

"We know you're sorry about it," Hannah said.

Brian leaned over from his spot next to me, and put a hand on the back of my neck, pulling me closer.

"And you're never gonna do anything like it again," he said, raising an eyebrow at me. "Right, peach?"

"Right," I said, and he gave me a dig in the ribs that had me turning ticklish.

Brian pulled me down a little, and kissed me on the top of my head. "Because," he said, low, in my ear,

"If you ever did, I personally will retrieve you, and there won't be enough of you left by the time I'm done, to even

worry about grounding."

I squirmed a little at that threat, and he and Adam finished their hamburgers, before we got up to leave.

Back at the courthouse, we went to sit back in the same room that we'd been in before, and where John had told us to wait

at.

We were all quiet, just waiting, and each busy with their own thoughts.

When John stepped into the doorway, and said, "Ready?" to us, we all got up and followed him down the hall to a

room off the corridor, with the name 'Judge Steven B. Hudson' on the door in brass.

John held the door open for us to pass in front of him, and we went in, single-file, Adam and then Hannah, and then me, followed

by Brian and John. Karissa and her lawyer were already seated in chairs on the other side of the judge's desk.

The judge himself was not present in the room yet, and John nodded at us to take the four chairs on the other side of the desk.

"He'll be along in a few minutes," John told us.

So we sat some more. It was quiet in the room, except for the sound of the clock's pendulum swinging on the wall, and then

the silence was interrupted without warning by Karissa, speaking curtly, "All of this could have been avoided, if only you two weren't so

stubborn and narrow-minded."

She meant this, of course, for Adam and Brian. I could see them both tense up, and Adam's jaw set in an angry line. But they

were both quiet, not responding.

I sighed, and Brian reached over to take my hand tightly in his own.

When the door opened, and the judge came into the room, we all stood up.

"Good afternoon," he said, in greeting, to the room in general, and everybody said 'good afternoon' to him collectively.

He did, indeed, just like a television judge, have on a black robe. He was an older man. If I had to, I would judge him to be

about the age that Doc G had been. His hair was dark, with silver on his temple.

When he went behind his desk, and sat down, then we followed John's lead, and sat back down in our chairs.

The judge picked up some papers that were lying in front of him on the desk, and skimmed over them, really quickly, while

the room waited in silence.

"A custody issue," he said, putting the papers down, and taking off his glasses, twirling them in his hands a little. "For

the young lady here, obviously?"

"Yes, Judge," John responded.

"Alright. Well, gentlemen," he said, addressing John and Karissa's lawyer, "Start your engines. Let's begin."

7


	84. A kind man

Judge Hudson leaned back in his swivel chair, and nodded towards Karissa's lawyer.

"Why don't you begin, Mr. Marks," he said.

Karissa's lawyer stood up to begin talking, and I wondered if that was something that he had to do, like a rule in front of a judge, or

if it was just something that he wanted to do. He cleared his throat a little, and said, "We're here, Judge, because my client, Mrs. Bonner,

has been steadily building a relationship with her niece in the past few months, though she has had many stumbling blocks and resistance from

the McFadden family. She has been continually met with contentious actions from the entire family."

I thought that opening statement very unfair. Granted, Brian and Adam hadn't ever really accepted Karissa, but they'd agreed to let

her come to the house to visit. They'd had her to meals. And I'd seen firsthand how cordial that Hannah had been to her.

"Mrs. Bonner wishes to have her niece reside with her, in her residence in Nevada," Mr. Marks continued. "She has a vastly successful

real estate business there, and would be able to provide Miss McFadden with a life of privilege and opportunities. The McFaddens have a large

family, and it is my client's belief that the young lady in question has gotten the 'short end of the stick', so to speak. She hasn't been

able to have advantages that she would be able to enjoy were she to reside with Mrs. Bonner. In a family as large as the one she's grown up

in, it's highly unlikely that she's gotten the attention or the opportunities that she deserves. There is also the issue of turmoil and unrest in the

home. It's a chaotic environment."

Since I had to focus, and focus hard, on keeping my mouth quiet, I was listening and turning over the lawyer's words in my

mind as he spoke. One thing he said that was true enough, was the part about our house being somewhat chaotic.

"There are numerous occasions, just in the short time that my client has been in contact with her niece, that Miss McFadden has

been injured while working on her family's ranch," the lawyer went on. "She's given too much responsibility for a young person, and this leads to her

being physically hurt. And, since Miss McFadden has been diagnosed with diabetes in the last year, and Mrs. Bonner also has the

same disease, she would understand and be able to cope with the young lady's illness in a much more efficient manner."

I dug my fingernails into the palm of my other hand, clenching them so tightly, and telling myself not to shout out.

"In closing, we want to reiterate the fact that Mrs. Bonner could, and would, provide Miss McFadden with a life of opportunity that would set her

on the road to success as an adult. Her home environment with Mrs. Bonner would be strife-free, and Miss McFadden could reach her

full potential. And, though the paperwork that Your Honor has there, from the Division of Children's Services of Calavaras County states

that the home environment is functional, it doesn't explain why Miss McFadden felt the need to leave her home a few weeks ago and travel

across the country, alone, from California to Tennessee."

And, with that parting comment, the young lawyer, who'd I'd taken for a dweeb, and no match for John, nodded to the judge,

and said, "Thank you, Judge," and sat back down next to Karissa.

I felt my heart begin to thump so loudly that I was sure everyone in the room would be able to hear it. How had they found out

about my little jaunt to see Daniel? I gave Adam, to my right, a panicked look, and when he showed no surprise, but maintained the

same serious expression that he'd had all along, I turned to my left, to Brian. Brian was showing no surprise, either, though his

expression was harder, looking as if it were set in granite. I felt easy tears well up in my eyes. I'd done it now! Because of my

stupidity, it was going to look as though I wasn't happy at home! That I'd run off, showing no concern or regard for anybody

in my family. That I was an out-of-control teen girl.

"Thank you, Mr. Marks," the judge said, and looked to John. "Mr. Tetwiler, it appears that you're up next."

John stood up, and when I risked a look at his face, it was serious, but he seemed calm enough. I wondered if he'd known about

me taking off to Daniel's. If so, wouldn't he have said something about it to all of us when we were talking before?

"Firstly," John began, "I'll address Mr. Mark's last comment about Harlie's visit to Tennessee a few weeks ago. Harlie went to

visit her brother that resides there. She did do it in a way that wasn't particularly responsible. She understands that and her family

has dealt with the issue."

Then, John began to talk about other things, as though my foray to Nashville hadn't been the biggest mistake of my life.

"Now, on to address the wish of Mrs. Bonner for Harlie to reside with her in Nevada, that's something that's just not

realistic or in Harlie's best interest. My clients have concerns about Mrs. Bonner's drinking, which she deems as social drinking, but

upon hearing more details, it would appear to be much more than that. Harlie has herself expressed a concern for her own safety,

and that of her aunt, when out in a car after Mrs. Bonner has had a few drinks. When approached about whether she would be willing to

undergo some alcohol counseling, Mrs. Bonner flatly refused to even consider it."

"I do not drink to excess," Karissa interrupted. "It's ridiculous that it's even being discussed."

"Mrs. Bonner, your lawyer will address any rebuttals that you have," Judge Hudson instructed, giving Karissa a stern look.

Karissa gave a sort of 'humph' sound, and sat back in her chair.

"As far as the size of the McFadden family, or the chaos in the home environment, I think your Honor will agree that any home

that has successfully raised several boys to manhood should be commended for it, not judged on the number of them that there are. There

has never been a time, since the oldest McFadden brothers were themselves young men, that the Department of Children's Services has

been involved in any way with their family. That is, until Mrs. Bonner filed this suit, and a representative of the department went to

visit with Harlie and her brother, Guthrie. Fifteen plus years, Judge, and no reports of child neglect. The family has met the physical, emotional,

and financial needs of all those youngsters. As you can read from the report that you have there, the Department found no

deficiencies in the care of Harlie and Guthrie, who are the two remaining siblings that are under the age of eighteen. In fact, the report

states that both teenagers expressed their contentment and feelings of security, and their belief in the ability of their older siblings to care for them."

John looked briefly at a paper in his hand, and then laid it down, clearing his throat a little. "Harlie is sixteen, Your Honor. It is her desire to

remain with her family, in the home where she's spent her entire life. At this juncture, she doesn't wish to have even occasional visitation

with Mrs. Bonner, and that stems from concern about the heavy drinking, and feeling unsafe, and also the fact that Mrs. Bonner uses

her time with her niece to belittle Harlie's father, Adam, Sr., or her older brothers. It is my client's wish that Harlie remain with them, where she wants to be,

and that this situation be laid to rest. Thank you, Judge."

And, with that, John sat down.

For a moment, and probably only a moment, there was such silence in the room that you could have 'heard a pin drop', as they say.

There was some hurried whispering between Karissa and her lawyer, and then Mr. Marks stood up again.

"My client regrets that due to obvious pressure from her family, Miss McFadden has felt the need to lie about the overuse of alcohol by Mrs.

Bonner. She feels-" and he began to drone on and on.

I sat up so straight in my chair that it was a wonder that my back didn't snap. I wanted to yell and scream. The words 'bitch' and

'bat shit' came to mind. I pressed my hands down on the arms of my chair so hard that it hurt.

Tears came to my eyes. How dare she! Call me out as a liar when she knew full well that what I'd said was the truth!

There was the lightest of whispering in my left ear, as Adam leaned over to me. "Settle down," he said.

I gave him an incredulous look. Then I looked forward again, though I was still sitting just as straight and stiff. And I was just as

upset. But I did stay quiet.

When the namby-pamby lawyer had sat back down again, John stood up.

"Details can be given, to substantiate Harlie's concerns about her own safety, if necessary, Judge," he said, briefly. "She can share those

with you herself, if you'd like."

Then he sat back down.

The judge gave a short nod.

Then he turned his gaze on me. "Harlie, I'd like to talk with you for a few minutes. Ask you some questions. Would that be

alright?"

I nodded, and then found my voice. "Yes, sir."

"Alright. Why don't you come over here, and sit closer to me?" the judge said, gesturing to a chair next to his desk.

I stood up, my legs feeling a little weak, and went to sit in the chair that he was gesturing to, and that he'd pulled over a bit,

so that it was close to his own.

He gave me a smile then, and I saw that up close, he did have eyes that looked like Doc G's. And there were laugh lines around his

mouth. He looked kind.

I folded my hands together tightly in my lap, and I must have sighed a little, because he said, "No need to be frightened, Harlie. I just

want to help."

I nodded. I'd thought that he would start right out asking me about how and why I'd gone to Tennessee, or question me about Karissa's drinking. So

I was surprised when he suggested, instead, "Why don't you start out by telling me a little about your family."

I hesitated, unsure of just what he wanted. "Like everybody's name? Or what?"

"Everybody's name if you like. Things about each one of them. Activities you do as a family. Anything of that sort that you'd care to

share with me," the judge said.

"Alright," I said, and then I began slowly. "Well, there's Guthrie. He and I are really close in age, less than a year apart. We do a lot of

things together. Fishing, and swimming. And we ride to school together nearly every day. Guthrie's-" I hesitated, "Well, he's

just about my best friend, I guess."

"Ford's finishing his first year of college. He'll be turning twenty soon." I thought for a moment. "He can play eight different

instruments, and he's thinking about becoming a science teacher."

"He sounds like an amazing young man," the judge said, smiling at me.

"He is," I agreed.

"Go on," he said then. "Please. I like hearing about all these brothers."

I returned his smile. "Evan's next. Sometimes he rides the rodeo circuit. He's really gifted with handling horses. He can gentle a

horse that no one else can even get close to. Then there's Daniel." I hesitated, feeling my face warm a little. "He's the one that

lives in Tennessee."

"Is he a musician?" the judge asked.

"Yes, sir. He writes songs, and he can sing, and play the guitar. He's really talented."

When the judge nodded at me, I said, "Crane's pretty amazing. He's really kind, and he's compassionate. He's a good listener.

And, he's probably the smartest person that I know."

I looked towards where Hannah was sitting, and said, "When I was growing up, my brothers did a great job taking care of me. But when Hannah came

around, it did add something to our family that was missing. She brought so much to us, especially to us younger kids. She's really

important to Ford and Guthrie and I."

"She was quite brave taking on such a large group," the judge commented, but he said it kindly.

"She was," I agreed.

"She and Adam had a baby in December," I went on. "His name is Isaac."

"I have a grandson named Isaac," the judge said.

"You do?" I asked, with interest.

"It's a good, solid name, I've always felt," he said.

"Yes," I agreed. "Sometimes we call him Scooter. Guthrie's fixing up our old treehouse, so it'll be ready for him when he gets

old enough."

"That'll be nice for him." He gave me a steady look. "Continue. Please."

"There's Clare," I said. "She married Brian last summer. She's a nurse. She fits in really well with all of us."

I hesitated again, and he said, in a teasing way, "How about these two that are sitting here? What can you tell me about them?"

I bit at my lip for a moment, thinking. I wanted to say something about Adam and Brian that would show the judge what

great guys that they really were, and how well that they'd taken care of me. "Well, I have a special memory about each of them. Would that be alright?"

"That would be fine," he said, leaning back as though he was ready to listen.

"When I was younger, Adam or Brian would braid my hair every morning before school. They were just simple braids, but they always

made sure that I brushed my hair and that they'd braided it before I got on the bus. I was about eight or nine and there was a girl in my

class at school that had her hair done every day in a different hairstyle. Either French braided, or little braids at the side of her head or

something like that. I started wishing that I could have my hair fixed that way. I talked to Daniel about it. He would have been in high

school by then, and he told me that Adam and Brian had enough to do every morning without worrying about fixing my hair some fancy way. But I talked

about it, every chance I got, where they could hear me."

I took a breath, and said, "We were at a basketball game of one of my brothers, and that girl and her mom sat right in front of where

Adam and I were sitting in the bleachers. That night her hair was done really pretty, and I know I just sat there, looking at the back of her

head, instead of watching the game. When it was halftime, she got up to go with her mom, and Adam leaned over and asked me

if that was the girl I was always talking about. So I said yes, and he just nodded, and didn't say anything else."

"The next day after school, and after supper and everything, I remember I was doing my homework with Guthrie in the living room,

and Adam came in and he was carrying this thick book, and he sat down, and started looking thru it. And then, he told me to come over to

where he was sitting on the couch, and when I did, I saw it was a book about how to do different types of braids and things. Sort of one of those

directions by pictures. I asked him what he was doing with it, and he said," I hesitated a little, "that he'd checked it out of the library, and

if I wanted him to, he was going to try to practice until he could do my hair like the girl in my class. He said I could go thru the book and pick

out one or maybe two of the braids that I wanted him to try to learn, but not to go crazy and think he was going to do all of them."

The judge smiled at that, first at me, and then towards Adam. "And how did you do with it, sir?" he asked Adam, looking amused.

"I guess alright," Adam said, from where he sat. "She seemed happy about it."

I looked at him and I could tell he was a little embarrassed by my talking about him that way, but Hannah was smiling at him,

proudly.

"And was he able to fix your hair the way that you wanted?" the judge asked me.

"He did," I nodded. "He got pretty good at it, and when they took the spring pictures that year at school, my hair looked just as

good as Ellie Roger's hair."

7


	85. Insult turned compliment

When I'd finished by saying how Adam had practiced hairstyles until I was content and happy with the way that my hair looked, I gave a quick

look over in Adam's direction..

He gave me reserved smile, and then a wink. I smiled back at him, and looked back at the Judge.

"How about-" the Judge began, and then looked over at Brian. "Brian, is it?"

When Brian nodded at him in acknowledgement, he went on, "What about Brian? He was young too, to have so much responsibility."

"Yes," I agreed. "He was. At the beginning, of everything, he was still in high school, so he went to school, and then came home to give Adam

a break from Guthrie and I when we just little, and then he'd usually do most of the cooking."

I thought for a moment. "When I was about six, and in first grade, and May came around, our teacher told us that the next day we were going to make these cards

for Mother's Day. She was nice about it, and she told me that I could make a card for someone else, since-since my mom had passed away. I thought

about making the card for Marie. She'd been good to us, and she's sort of like a grandma to Guthrie and I. But I still felt bad about it, because I was

the only kid in the class that didn't have a mom to make a card for. When I got home from school that day, I was feeling sad, I remember, and I guess

I was sort of quiet. I was out in the barn after supper, in the hayloft. That's where I always went, and Brian came out to look for me.

He climbed up there, too, and sat with me, and asked me what was bothering me. So I told him about the Mother's Day project, and how I was feeling.

He told me to go on and make the card the next day at school, just as if I was making it for our mother, and that when I brought it home he would tell

me what we were going to do next."

I hesitated, remembering. "I asked him what he was talking about, but he wouldn't tell me then. He just kept telling me to bring the card home. So I

decorated my card, and wrote on it, and all of that, just like the other kids. I think I wrote that I loved her, and that I was sad she wasn't there with me. So

I brought it home after school, and showed it to Brian. He told me to put it on the top of the piano until two days later, on Sunday, Mother's Day, and that

we would do something special. So when Sunday morning came around, everybody else went to church, but Brian told me to bring the card, and he took

me out to breakfast. Then we went to the cemetary, and went to my parent's graves. I kept asking him what we were going to do there, and

he said just wait and see."

I stopped, and took a breath, feeling my heart clutch a little at the memory. "Brian told me to put the card on the stone below my mom's name, and then

he sort of crouched down and held me. He said that if I left the card there like that, that our mom would see it. And then he said there was a sure-fire way

to tell if she liked the card. And that was if, the next morning, when I woke up, if the sun was shining, that would mean that she really liked it, and that the sun meant

she was smiling."

I looked in Brian's direction then, and he had his head down, just slightly, and I could see the emotion on his face.

"It was later," I went on, "when I was a lot older, that I realized that it had been a pretty safe thing for him to promise, with it being California and all,

there was bound to be sunshine the next day. And there was. So I was really happy about that, and the next year, I did the same thing for Mother's Day. I

made the card at school and we took it to our mom's grave. But that year, when I woke up the next day, it was raining. And I got so upset. I ran

into Brian's bedroom, and woke him up, and I was crying so hard he had trouble understanding what was wrong. I just kept saying that it was raining,

over and over. And that Mom hadn't liked my card I'd left, because the sun wasn't out. And so then Brian said that I didn't need to feel bad, because

he'd forgotten to tell me something, and that was, 'if the sun was shining, it meant my mom was smiling about the card', but that if it was raining, that

wasn't something bad. Because it meant that she'd liked the card so much that she showed it to some other mothers in Heaven, and that they were

sad because they wished they had such a beautiful card, and that the rain was their tears."

I finished, and sat quietly for a moment. It seemed that the judge was touched by my story, and he cleared his throat a little, and

looked towards Brian. "That's quite a story, and quite a testament. You should be proud."

When I looked at Brian again, he was nodding at the judge, but I saw a quick, and only a quick, glimmer of tears in his eyes before he

blinked them away.

"I just want to say that all my brothers are good guys," I said. "But Adam, and Brian, they did something when they were so young, something that

they didn't really have to do. They took care of all of us. And they did a good job."

The judge smiled at me. "Thank you, Harlie. Those are heartfelt words, I know." He leaned back a little in his chair, studying me. "Tell me

how you got acquainted with your aunt. How did that come about?"

I felt my face warm up in embarrassment immediately. "Well," I hesitated, "Since this all came about, since I met Karissa and everything, and

then when she filed this custody suit, everything just got so big, so fast. It seemed as though it's all I could think about sometimes. I had trouble with

my grades and-" I let my voice trail off, realizing that I was getting off of the subject of what he'd asked me. "It was confusing at first, because she

kept telling me things about my father, and about Adam and Brian, and all that. I was going to tell them about meeting her, but she asked me not to."

At this, Karissa made a sound of protest, and the judge swiveled in his chair to look at her. "Quiet, Mrs. Bonner."

"I know now that I should have told them anyway," I went on, "but I didn't. And then when I did tell them, Adam and Brian were upset, but they

let her come to the house, and eat with us, and they said she could come there to visit with me. And she did that, a couple of times." I thought back,

trying to remember details.

I sat up straight in my chair, determined to take responsibility. "I wanted to hear stories, about my mother, because I didn't really know

a lot about her, when she was younger, I mean. And Karissa could tell me those things. And she had pictures that she gave me. So it was

something that I wanted to do. But then, it seemed as though it became less about that, and more about her feelings about my brothers. She

was always finding fault with them. When I hurt my wrist, and all that. And she would tell me they were too strict on me. Things like that."

I stopped talking, and looked at the judge, wondering if I'd answered what he'd wanted to know.

"Tell me about when you injured yourself," the judge said.

"Well," I said, worried that I would say the wrong thing. "I broke my wrist, and sprained my ankle, when I was on horseback, chasing a

calf. It was because I took the downhill side of the hill too fast. I misjudged it. It's just something that happens sometimes on a ranch."

"You have a lot of responsibility, though?" he asked me then. "Is that something that you're comfortable with?"

"I have responsibility," I said, carefully, not wanting to seem as though I was contradicting the judge. "But not the final responsibility, or

anything like that. I mean, it's not any more than what my brothers had at my age. The fall I took was because I didn't wait for whoever

was closest by." I hesitated again, thinking. "I mean, Adam wasn't happy about it."

"No?" the judge prompted me.

"No, sir. He-well, he got onto me for it," I said, not certain if that was the right thing to say.

"And do you feel, as most teenagers do about their parents, that Adam, and Brian, too, are too strict with you?" he asked.

Here I really hesitated. He'd probably be able to tell if I wasn't entirely honest with him. I mean, he was a judge, after all.

"They're strict," I said, in honesty. "Sometimes I think they're too strict. But, I understand why they are. I try not to get

aggravated about it."

The judge smiled at me, his eyes kind. "What are the things that you differ with them on?" he asked. "Things that you seem to

butt heads with them on?"

"You mean the things that they get the most upset with me about?" I asked him, and he nodded.

"Well, with Crane, it's my grades. He keeps a good eye on Guthrie and I with all of that, and if our grades go down, then

he talks to us, and he'll help us if we need it. And he gives us a certain amount of time to get them up."

"And if they don't come up?" he asked me.

"He's grounded us for it, until we get them back up," I said.

The judge nodded, in an indication for me to continue.

"With Brian, it's honesty. He doesn't like if I lie to him, or tell him only half-truths, or something. And Adam is like that, too. They'd both

rather me just come and tell them something, straight out. They might get angry, but not as much as if I lie about it to them. And they

don't, any of them, like it when I talk back to them, or if I'm disrespectful."

"Tell me about your trip to Tennessee," the judge said then. "How did that happen?"

I felt my face heat up in embarrassment. I began to pop my knuckles in nervousness like Guthrie does, until I realized what I

was doing and made myself stop and hold my hands still.

"Like I said, it was stressful, not knowing what was going to happen with all of this custody stuff," I said slowly. "I let it get to me, and

one really bad day, I just-decided that I'd feel better if I saw Daniel. It had been awhile since he'd been home and all-" I let my voice trail

off a little. "I shouldn't have done it," I said, knowing that I sounded sort of vague.

"So it was a sudden decision?" he asked me, leaning back and clasping his hands together.

"Well," I hesitated. "Sort of."

He raised his eyebrow a little, and I flushed again. "I decided on a Saturday to do it, and on Sunday I went," I admitted.

"So it was thought out somewhat then," the judge determined.

"Yes, sir," I said, feeling discouraged and embarrassed. Now he'd think I was out of control, selfish, and that my family couldn't

take proper care of me.

Instead of saying any of that, however, the judge just looked at me steadily. He looked sober but not angry.

"Was there no one at home that you felt you could talk to about how you were feeling?" he asked me.

"I could have," I said, again worried I would say the wrong thing. "They all talked to me about it, at some point, but-" I hesitated.

"But what, Harlie?" he asked, looking kind.

I tried to focus on his kind eyes, so like Doc G's. "Well, they told me not to worry, that nothing would come of it, all of that. I know

that they didn't know what to say to me to make me feel better and not worry so much."

"So you traveled alone to Tennessee?" he asked. "By bus?"

"Yes, sir."

"That was a huge risk that you took, young lady," he said, sounding more stern than he had yet in our conversation.

"Yes, sir," I said, heat rising to my face again.

"And was Daniel able to tell you something different, something to make you feel better?" he asked.

"He didn't have anything different to say than what the rest of the family said," I admitted. "He said he didn't think

there was anything to worry about, and that I should have waited it out. He was angry because I did something so stupid."

"Have you been punished?" the judge asked me.

"Yes, sir," I said, still embarrassed.

"Is that a risk that you're likely to take again?" he asked me then.

"No, sir," I said, with certainty, meeting his eyes. "I'd never want to worry them all that way again. I regret it."

I felt my eyes begin to tear up, thinking of Evan. "I hurt them all. I'm still trying to make it right."

He nodded, looking approvingly at me. "That's what you must do," he agreed.

"I have one last question for you, Harlie," he said. "Do you want to have a relationship with your aunt?"

I hesitated. "I did. But now, after everything, no, I don't. Not right now."

"Alright. You may go back and sit by your brother," he told me, and I got up, going back to my chair in between Brian and

Adam. Adam gave me a half-smile, and patted my knee.

The judge swiveled in his chair so that he was facing everyone in the room directly once again.

"This case, interesting as it may be, has been a waste of the court's time," he said. He sounded so severe that my heart

thumped a little, not sure what he was getting at.

"There is no indication, either in records or via observation, that this young lady should be anywhere but exactly where

she is. She, and apparently the brothers slightly older than her, are doing well in their studies, and have a good work ethic, and a

sense of responsibility. "

He gave me a smile. "I find Harlie to be a delight to speak with." He included Brian and Adam in his gaze. "You have done

a fine job, gentlemen." He smiled at Hannah. "I'm sure that you, and the other family members at home have helped that job

along as well."

He turned towards Karissa. "Mrs. Bonner, even without the concern of operating a motor vehicle while having had too much too

drink, which is undoubtable a huge concern, there is no substance to this case. Having more money does not necessarily constitute

a better upbringing for a youngster."

"Harlie has been brainwashed," Karissa burst out, her eyes flashing, and sitting forward in her chair.

I felt Brian stiffen beside me, but the judge only seemed amused. "In just my short conversation with Harlie, she strikes me

as a young lady who is decisive, and capable of realizing her own errors. And, most especially, she seems to be the sort of young

person who is very capable of following what is right and wrong, and deciding her own mind. Anyone who believes her to be 'brainwashed' as

you say, obviously does not have a correct view of her character and personality."

Karissa made a huffing sound, but was silent.

"It's my determination that Harlie remain exactly where she is," the judge said, and I heard Hannah let out a sigh of relief. I could

hardly take in what he was saying. It was over?

"Gentlemen," he said, addressing Brian and Adam, "Keep doing what you're doing. Your family is apparently a successful one." He stood

up, and everyone else did, as well, as he came around from the side of his desk.

He shook hands with John and the other lawyer, then Karissa, and then Hannah, Adam and Brian.

He stood near to me, and put out his hand. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Harlie," he said.

"Thank you," I said, so grateful to him that I wished I could hug him. "For everything."

"You're welcome." He surveyed me seriously for a moment. "Keep on, young lady. Don't lose your way."

"Yes, sir," I said.

He nodded, and we all made our way out into the hallway. I was worried then about what Karissa might say, or do.

Her eyes were flashing as they landed on me. She said nothing, but I felt that look piercing me.

"You really are Kate's daughter," she said, as if to insult me. "You behave just like her. Stubborn, and not seeing opportunities

right in front of you."

"Thanks, John," Adam said.

"You bet," John said.

Adam took hold of my hand, and then Hannah's. "Let's go," he said.

We were already walking when I turned back to look at Karissa. There was so much that I wanted to say. I settled for, "Thank you

for saying I'm like my mom," I said, effectively turning her 'supposed insult' into a compliment.

7

He came around


	86. Thawing of the ice

I felt so drained by the time we got home, it seemed to me that I could sleep for a week. It wasn't the good sort of tired, like I

feel after helping work cattle, or spending the day at the creek with Guthrie. This is the kind of tired that seeps into you, and leaves

you feeling limp and useless. I was thrilled with everything that the judge and John had said. But I was still feeling

shell-shocked by everything that day. Sort of wrung-out, emotion-wise. It didn't seem real just yet that the whole nightmare

was over.

"Can I go for a ride?" I asked, as soon as we'd all gotten out of the car at home.

"Come inside with me," Hannah encouraged.

"I'm not trying to be rude, Hannah, but I need to ride," I said, and I looked at Adam.

"Where to?" Adam asked me, and I breathed in relief.

"The south pasture?" I suggested, and after a moment, he nodded.

"Alright. Don't be gone long," he said, his face understanding.

I nodded, and practically ran to the barn, grabbing my saddle and bridle and toting them to the fence beside the

barn. I whistled, and Petra, true to her contrary nature, tossed her head and cantered off. Old Charlie, faithful as ever,

came over to meet me.

"You're a good boy," I told him, "not like that prima donna Petra."

I saddled him hurriedly, and mounted, And then I gave Charlie his head, and I was free.

7

For a while, I galloped Charlie, and then I slowed him to a walk, to cool him down. I let him stop to nibble on some

grass here and there.

I rode to the tree where Guthrie, Ford and I had played in our treehouse. Guthrie had recently begun to work on

repairing it, a little at a time. I hadn't been here for awhile, and I was surprised at how much he'd accomplished.

I let Charlie eat his grass, just being ground-tied. He was trained from years with Doc G not to leave his rider.

I sat on the ground, under the treehouse Oak, and absentmindedly yanked grass with my hand.

I wished with a fierceness that was nearly overwhelming to have Doc G sitting there beside me, under that tree.

I closed my eyes, and thought hard. I could almost hear his soothing brogue.

"Worries are like leather, lass. You can boil them for days, and they're still going to be tough."

"I wish you were here," I said, in a whisper.

I was starting to relax, and feel the unknotting of my spirit that comes from being outside in nature, when I heard horse's hooves

coming. I watched as the horse and rider got closer, but I knew even when it was still a good distance away who it was.

I could tell by the way that he rode. Every one of my brothers seems to have their own style of riding, or their own way of sitting

a horse.

When Guthrie was upon me, he swung down with an easy motion, and let Duke loose to eat grass with Charlie.

"What's cookin', hyena?" he taunted me, as he ambled up to where I sat.

"Not too much," I said, grabbing at another tuft of grass.

Guthrie sank to the ground beside me, stretching his long legs out.

"Adam said it went good today," he said, sounding joyful.

"Yeah. It did," I said, with a sigh of relief.

"That's good, cause I got worried when you didn't show up for school. I kept watchin' for you at lunch."

"With only an hour or so left, there really wasn't much point to coming," I said.

"Naw," he said, in agreement. He gave me a nudge in the ribs. "So we don't have to worry about losing you to the heifer," he

said, referring, I knew, to the insulting nickname that Evan had given Karissa.

"No. I guess you don't," I said.

Guthrie suddenly looked serious. "I'm real glad, Har."

I faced him, meeting his green eyes. "Me, too."

Guthrie turned to look out towards the horses. "Man, when I think about it, well, it really scared me."

For Guthrie to admit that, that he'd been frightened about the possibility of my having to leave, well, it touched me.

"I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have your annoying ass around every day," he said then, effectively ruining

the tender moment.

I gave him a nudge. "Likewise," I said.

I gestured to the treehouse. "You've really done a lot of work on the treehouse."

"Yeah. Ford helped me a little. And Evan, he's been coming almost every time with me to help."

"That's good." At the thought of Evan, I felt a prickle of unease again.

"What can I do about Evan?" I asked Guthrie.

"Still no thaw, huh?" Guthrie asked.

"No. He's as frozen as an ice block," I said.

"Maybe you ought to ask Brian to talk to him," Guthrie suggested. "Or I can try-"

"No. He has to want to talk to me. Besides, he thinks he's right about it all." I hesitated a moment. "And, actually he is right."

"You apologized, though. You've tried with him, I know you have," Guthrie said loyally.

"Yeah. I have. But if you hurt somebody, like I did him, well, it's their right to not ever feel the same about you," I said.

"I call bullshit on that," Guthrie said, puffing up like a rooster. "He needs to quit bein' such a hardass. And, I'm just liable

to tell him so, if he doesn't knock it off."

"Tough talk," I said, nudging him in the ribs again.

"You think I won't?" he challenged.

"I know you would," I said, hurriedly, to pacify his male pride. "But I don't want you to. It's my problem. And besides, it

might even make things worse if any of you guys start jumping on him."

Guthrie didn't look convinced, and I added, "Please, Guth."

"Alright. But if he's still actin' this way in say, another week, then I'm gonna say somethin'," he threatened.

"Okay. But not yet."

Guthrie nodded in agreement. "We should get back," he said. "Hannah and Clare are plannin' a big celebration about

the custody thing being over. Brian's even helpin' to cook."

"Oh, wow," I said, feeling a little humbled by the family's elation.

"You know how Hannah is," Guthrie said. "And this whole thing has been hard on her, too."

"I know," I said, and got to my feet, dusting off the seat of my jeans.

7

We had a race going back to the house. Charlie may be old, but he's fast. I was a good thirty feet ahead of Guthrie when we

reached the front pasture.

"Take that!" I said, teasing Guthrie, as I pulled Charlie to a halt.

"Show off," he accused, teasing me back.

We unsaddled and turned the horses out, and then toted our saddles into the barn, still teasing each other.

And there was Evan, mucking out stalls.

"I'll help ya in a minute, Ev," Guthrie said, sounding cheerful, and once he and I were done putting up our tack,

he went to grab a pitchfork to help Evan, and I did, too.

We were all three working steadily, not saying much of anything, and Evan paused at the end of the stall that

I was working in.

"You don't have to do that," he said. "Don't you have the goats to feed?"

"I'll do them in a few minutes," I said, determined to stay cheerful, and positive with him. "I don't mind helping."

There, I thought. Maybe he would realize that my meltdown in the kitchen last night, and my yelling at him, would not be repeated, and that

I was back to the newly mature Harlie.

Evan stood there for another moment or so, looking as though he wanted to say something more, and then he went on about his own chores again.

I sighed. It would have been nice if he'd offered a few words. Something along the lines of 'Thanks, a lot, Har', or

'I'm glad you don't have to go live with the heifer', or something like that.

Of course, I thought, I couldn't really blame Evan. He'd tried the evening before to say something nice to me, when

he'd said that he hoped the meeting would go well. And I'd reacted like a crazy person.

The more I thought about the evening before, the worse I felt. The guilt of the way I'd gone after Evan, sort of like a rabid dog,

well, it was now overshadowing my happiness and relief about the custody suit being over.

"I'm done," Guthrie proclaimed, returning his pitchfork to where it belonged. "You done, Har?" he asked me.

"In a minute," I said. When Evan wasn't watching, I nodded at him, to let Guthrie know that I was going to try to

talk to him.

Guthrie nodded, and went on his way. I worked for a few more minutes in silence, and then I leaned my pitchfork

against a wall, and went to stand in the open space of the stall where Evan was working.

"I don't have to go live with Karissa," I said, into the quietness.

Evan didn't pause in his pitching of the fresh hay that he was lining the cleaned stall with. "I heard. That's good. It's been hard

on the family."

The family. He didn't mention me. Or himself. Just a general 'the family'. I wondered if that signified anything, or I was

just being overly sensitive and looking for a slight from him.

I found myself babbling then, just to keep him talking.

"Well, the judge was a really nice man, and he listened to everything, and then he said that it had been a waste of everybody's time really, for

her to file the custody suit."

"That's good," Evan said again, still spreading the hay around.

I watched him do that, trying to think of the right words to say.

"I went after you last night in the kitchen, kind of crazy," I said. "You said something nice to me, and

I didn't answer the way that I should have." I licked my dry lips, and added, "I'm sorry."

Evan gave a heavy sigh, and then stopped spreading the hay, to hold the iron pitchfork handle in his

gloved hand.

He stood there, just looking at me, his expression serious, and sad, it seemed to me.

"I'd never want you to have to go live somewhere else," he said.

"I know that. I just said all that stuff. I didn't mean it," I said.

Evan was quiet again, just looking at me. He looked so sad that it made me feel sad, too.

"I understand how you feel about me," I said, thinking that I might as well say it all now. "And I understand why you feel

that way. I was just thinking about myself when I took off the way I did. I wasn't thinking about anybody else's feelings

at all. And it's you that I really treated the worst in all of it."

Evan sighed again, and I plunged on, figuring that any minute he was going to get fed up, and tell me he didn't want

to hear anymore.

"I'm trying really hard, not to make promises that are empty," I said. "I want to really mean it when I promise something."

I turned away just a little, so that I wasn't looking directly at him anymore. I began to pick at the wood on the side of the

stall.

"I'm not saying that you have to hang out with me, or let me ask your advice about stuff, or any of that anymore. I just want

to tell you that I'm truly sorry for what I did to you, and-and I promise to try my best to never treat you that way again, and not

to act as if I don't respect you. Because you deserve better," I finished, with a catch in my voice, and tears filling my eyes.

After a long, long moment of silence, in which I continued to pick at the wood on the top rail, Evan said, quietly, "Okay."

There was something in his tone. Something different than what I'd heard from him since I'd been home. Not warmth, exactly.

Just something different. Acceptance.

I looked at him, feeling hopeful. "Okay?" I prompted.

"Yeah. Okay," he said.

"So does that mean, if we both come down for a midnight snack and run into each other in the kitchen, that we

can say hi to each other, and not have it be all weird?" I asked him.

"Yeah," he said again. "We should be able to manage that." He went towards the back wall to put the pitchfork away.

"That's good," I said, biting at my lip, and then when I remembered, I grabbed the one that I'd been using, and

followed him, putting it away.

We were walking to the house together, neither of us really talking, but that was alright, I thought. It wasn't a bad

silence. Not anymore.

At the bottom step of the porch, he paused, and stopped walking. "I'd offer to take you and Guthrie out for a game of pool to celebrate the

case bein' over. But I guess you couldn't go, bein' as how you're grounded and all."

I was so happy in that moment. I can't even describe how happy I was. "No, I don't think Adam would let me go. But

it's okay. It means a lot that you asked me," I said, and stood still, too, looking at him.

"I guess we could play a game of Monopoly after supper instead," he said.

That's when I knew. Right at that second, I knew that everything was going to be alright with Evan and I. He hates to play

Monopoly, and he'll only do it like once or twice a year, if even that. So, for him to offer like he did? Well, there was nothing

he could have said or done that would have proven any stronger that he was willing to begin to let bygones be bygones.

"That'd be great," I said, and I was embarrassed by the tears that filled my eyes again.

"You don't have to cry about it," he said, and he looked a little embarrassed, too.

The screen door was pushed open at the top of the stairs, and Crane appeared in the doorway. "Hey, you two," he said. "Time to come

in and have some celebratory supper."

"We're comin'," Evan told him.

When Crane had gone back in, the screen door closing with a bang, I said, "Now I know you really have

forgiven me, if you're willing to play a game that you hate."

"Hate's a strong word. I dislike it strongly," he said, and I thought he sounded nearly like the old joking Evan. Then

he seemed serious again. "But I guess I can tolerate havin' you kick my butt at Monopoly for one night."

I smiled at him, thru watery eyes. "Or," I suggested, "We could have a marathon of Monopoly and play every night this week. Two

tables, and the winners play each other the next night?"

Evan gave me a gentle shove to start me up the stairs. "Don't push your luck," he said.

7

This ends the story of 'A Leopard's Spots'. It has been such a joy to write this story, and I hate to end it. More McFadden

stories are residing in my mind. I have put fingers to keys and begun one already. Thanks to all my reviewers! Long live the

McFaddens!


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